District P

by IrrationalWildlife

Rating: mature
Tags: Crossover, Slice of Life, Romance, Comedy
Length: 78815

District 9 meets the Equestria crew in this quirky crossover.

The planet Equestria has been abandoned; its once-green fields are now brown and lifeless, due to Discord's escape. The Equestrian citizens' only hope of survival is to seek out another planet for habitation….

…That other planet is our own.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I intend for this story to be my longest work of writing to date, consisting of seven parts, each with multiple chapters. Some chapters may take longer to complete due to various reasons (work, college, etc.).

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-23 02:26:34 UTC

Part I: The Landing (Chapter I)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter I)

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee.

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead when the skies of November turn gloomy.

With a load of iron ore 26,000 tons more than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty

That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed when the gales of November came early.

-Gordon Lightfoot, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

The dot hung in the air for half an hour:  seven-hundred to seven-hundred-thirty.  Passers-by would have thought it was a plane; only one anonymous witness testified to its motionlessness.

"I knew something was wrong when I saw it wasn't moving.  It couldn't be a plane, and it was too high up to be a helicopter (as high as a fighter jet would fly).  It just hung over the monument like a tiny spider on a dragline."

At precisely seven-hundred-thirty-one, seemingly out of nowhere, a small sound like a buzzing gnat was emitted.  For the next ten minutes, it got louder and louder, eventually manifesting itself into a deafening, mechanical roar.  As the roar grew louder, the dot grew exponentially, from an apparent centimeter in width to the width of the National Mall.  A shadow grew over the city as the massive disc lowered itself to the tip of the Washington Monument, like a gyroscope on a pedestal.  As the disc did this, it emitted a grinding screech of unholy proportions.  Those that were within a 200-foot radius of the blast are now deaf; windows were broken to Fairfax, and cracked to the National Harbor.  The erupting sound of car alarms was almost as terrible as the screech itself

The disc was dark-grey, and coated with satellite dishes and antennae on both sides.  Spectators from miles away described it as a quasi-cylinder.  Its surface was cleaved and raised in small rectangles at odd intervals.  They noticed that it began to slowly rotate, like a spinning restaurant.

General Melski of the army recalled the spectacle with wide eyes.

"That fuckin' thing didn't show up on any radars!  Infared, UV, radio, you name it.  It was almost as if the goddam thing was cloaked by magic!"

Troops were immediately mobilized; helicopters swarmed around the disc like wasps.  Welders tried to cut their way in, but the metal was too strong.  RPG's were fired, but the metal blasted off and destroyed the offending helicopters with shrapnel.  Finally, large amounts of gamma rays were shot at the disc.  This melted the metal like lead.  Most people within a 200-foot radius of the ray blast will likely develop strong cancer by the 2050's.  The elderly present were reduced to a bloody paste of charred skin and bone fragments.

Four corporal troops (the expendable kind) were deployed by helicopter to the hole in the ship.  As they jumped into the orifice, they found themselves in a hallway four meters wide.  Steaming pipes and raging valve gauges lined the walls, and were illuminated by a single cage-light, dangling from the rusty ceiling.  The hallway became darker as the troops walked on.  The sunlight was quickly fading due to the steam and smoke pouring out of the hole....

No.

It was repairing itself.  One of the troops looked back to see the bizarre sight.

"Oh dear God!"  He picked up his radio.  "Sarge!  What do we do?  We're getting trapped inside!"

"Focus on your objective, corporal!  Make contact with whatever's in there.  You have two hours before we-zzzzzzzzzzzzshshshshzzzzzzz,"

The radio went dark.  One of the troops threw himself into the closing metal hole (in hope of getting back on the helicopter), but wan't fast enough.  He was cut in half by the wall, the lower half of his body falling onto the floor.  The other half fell seven-hundred feet to the grass below.  His head was removed by the tip of a flagpole; the rest of him hit the sidewalk with a loud "thump."

The other three turned around slowly to feast their eyes on a circular door ten meters ahead.  It was only ten feet high and covered with rust, giving it a diarrhea-brown color.  One of the soldiers (codename:  "Texan") walked valiantly to the door and plotted its penetration.

There were no cranks or hand-wheels present, only a fist-sized, quasi-egg-shaped socket on the door to which gears were attached.

"The fuck do I do now?" said Texan.

The two other soldiers came to his aid.

"Try shootin' it.  That's how it works in the movies," said one of them (codename:  "Nitro").

Texan fired his XM8 into the socket, but to no avail.  There was, however, a notable sound from the other side of the door.  Nitro recalls it as a "sort of 'clopping' sound."

The creatures were obviously startled, because the sound was repeating like a machine-gun.

"Poor bastards are runnin' for their lives like ants," mumbled Texan.

The last soldier (codename:  "Key") pushed his left fist into the socket and twisted hard to the left.  His eyes watered with force, but he made no sound.  The gears twisted with a frightening shriek, and the door swung three inches to the right.

Key pulled his hand out from the socket.  It was completely destroyed-his fingers had nose-dived into his palm like bloody water.  In fact, the pinky finger poked its head from the back of his hand.  This horrific ornament was dangling from a limp wrist-the bones smashed to pulp.

"Fuck, man!  How did you know to do that?" yelled Nitro.

"My wife taught me that one; I've seen worse.  Good thing I used my left hand," was his reply.

Texan and Nitro looked at each other with disgusted glances.

Key re-aligned his fingers and pushed open the door with his good hand.

A crack of yellow light poured into the chamber.  All the men could see was ten feet beyond; the rest was pure blackness.  They saw a small yellow appendage retract itself from the light.

No 'clop' sound...

Nothing.

Key slowly pushed the door with his foot, being mindful of whatever creatures lay inside.  He held a Desert Eagle in his right hand with confidence.

The light-crack grew wider, exposing thick dust in the air.  The place was beginning to look like an ancient tomb.

One more push...

The door creaked open to its extent, revealing...

Nothing-it was like looking at a black piece of felt-so black that no depth is visible.

Texan pulled out a flashlight and shined it to the left, holding his knife in his left hand...

The two ovaloid discs were six inches tall, four inches wide, and glowed like cat eyes, radiating a brilliant yellow from their glossy surfaces; nothing else was visible around them.  From the discs' perspectives, the soldiers' reactions were quite a sight.

"OH DEAR SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK!!!!!" one shrieked at the top of his lungs.  He dropped his flashlight fell back on his behind and scuttled away by kicking his feet.

Another fell to his knees, then to his face, his nose emitting a sharp "CRACK."

The last said nothing and held a stoic face, but, if the other soldiers had listened closely, they would have heard the distinctive sound of a water stream hitting cloth.

Nitro, still expressionless, pulled out his M9, clicked off the safety, and aimed directly at the two-inch space between the discs (which were now illuminated more dimly by the cage-light).

The discs did not lunge at him, nor did they dash away.  Any alien with a brain should recognize a weapon, or at least a hostile stance.

Why didn't this one?

Nitro lowered the M9, emptied the chamber, and put the gun on the ground slowly.

"Welcome to Earth," Nitro calmly said to the discs.

They twisted to the right, as if the alien was cocking its head (if the discs were indeed eyes).

Nitro sat down and leaned against the open door.

"C'mere, li'l fella,  I'm not gonna hurt ya," he said calmly, as if speaking to a pet.

"Nitro!  What the fuck is wrong with you?" Texan whispered.

"S'OK,  I'm friendly," Nitro continued.

The discs began to move toward him.

As the creature stepped into the light with a quick "sort of clopping" sound, Key sat up and turned around, his face covered with blood.  Texan's eyes grew so wide, they could have been replaced with grapefruits.

"Dear... Fucking... God..." Key murmured.

The discs ceased to glow as the creature moved, unable to reflect light from certain angles.  Nitro noticed an inch-long yellow iris surrounding a three-inch-long pupil for each disc:  definitely eyes.  Each eye was graced by three short lashes on the top half.  One eye was facing Nitro, but the other was facing upward, as if searching for some semblance of a ceiling.

The rounded head was a full foot tall and light-grey, its scalp hidden by a bleached-yellow mullet.  Two pointed ears graced each side of the hair.  There was a cleft halfway down its face (just below the eyes), jutting out two inches and displaying two small nostrils two centimeters below.  An inch below that was...

What the fuck...?

A smile?

It was true; the creature's mouth was bent into a definite smile.

From Nitro's head-on perspective, the creature was four-and-a-half feet tall, its body composing one-and-a-half feet of its height.  Its four legs (two in the front and two in the back) were completely smooth, their shapes resembling bell-bottom capri pants.  The whole creature was light-grey like its head, its skin appearing to have the same texture as a human's.  Overall, the creature vaguely resembled...

A horse?

"HI!!"  the creature blurted out in a low, stereotypically stupid, female voice.

Its mouth moves like a human's!

After staring at the creature astoundedly for a few seconds, Nitro nervously reached out his hand.

It can speak English and it can show expression?

"NITRO!!  It could be a brain-sucking tube!" Texan whispered from his temporary state of paralysis.

"I think it wants to shake my hand," Nitro quietly replied.  He grabbed the creature's "hoof" and shook benevolently.

Hm....  Its skin really does feel like a human's!

"MY NAME'S DERPY!" the creature declared happily.  "WHAT'S YOURS?"

"J-Jack, but you can call me Nitro,"

"I LIKE THAT NAME!!  IT RHYMES WITH 'MUFFIN!'  WHAT'S THAT THING ON THE GROUND?"

The creature held out its "hoof," pointing to Nitro's M9.

"I-It's a... uhh... it's-um... er-uh...."

"OOH!  I LOVE THIS GAME!  I'LL ASK YOU 20 QUESTIONS, AND YOU ANSWER 'EM!!"

Key finally broke from his awestruck gaze and quietly said:  "If you don't know what it's called, you can't play 20 Questions,"

"SURE, I CAN!  OK, LET'S START!!  UHH..."

The creature twisted its mouth into an "S" while puffing out its cheeks and holding up the right frontal "hoof" to its chin.

"IS IT A MUFFIN?"

Texan struggled to hide a laugh.  The thought was preposterous:  an alien came to conquer Earth and play 20 Questions with its inhabitants.

"It's not important what it is," Nitro said calmly, obviously warming up to the creature.  "Why have you come here?"

"WELL, IT ALL STARTED WHEN...  UUHH...  YA KNOW, I CAN'T REMEMBER!"

Texan and Key stood up slowly, not wanting to startle the creature(It could be secretly evil!).

"Are you alone?" Texan said stoically, holding his XM8 casually.

"FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK, MISTER!"

The creature turned to face Key, but stared beyond him into the blackness.

Now Nitro could see the creature's whole body.  It was three feet long and definitely horse-shaped.  The mullet on its head stretched down its six-inch-long neck, forming a frizzled mane.  Its tail was equally as yellow and frizzled as the mane, but Nitro focused on its torso.

Dear Fuckity God, they're real!

Wings.

The creature was a pegasus, following the simple description from the Greek myths.  In addition, the creature's rear flank bore a picture of what appeared to be bubbles.

That's a weird marking for a pegasus.

"HEY LUNA, YOU CAN TURN IT OFF NOW!" the creature yelled into the dark.

The deep blackness vanished instantly, as if turned off by a switch.  When Key saw the sight before him, he fumbled back into the doorway, joining Texan.  Nitro, dumbstruck, stood up slowly to take in his surroundings.

The gargantuan room was illuminated by an estimated(The men could not see the entire room; it was too wide.) hundred randomly-placed, burning oil drums.  Rusty pillars of (iron?) held up the hundred-foot-high ceiling (which was made of the same stuff) at thirty-foot intervals.  The floor was hidden by a foot-high brown coating of feces, but the coating stopped dead at the ten-foot square in which the men had been standing.  Indeed, the whole place smelled like-

"Chocolate," Key whispered.

"What?" said Nitro.

"Their shit smells like chocolate,"

Texan laughed quietly.

"Ya think we should ask if it's edible?" Texan said in a false southern accent, sticking out his jaw.

"Fuck you, Texan," Key snapped.

Far away, in what the men believed to be the center of the room, sat two small shapes atop a rusted dais.  The men squinted, but could not make out the shapes.  All they could tell was that one was white, and one was navy-blue.

"WELL, WELCOME TO THE E.S.S. HARMONY, GUYS!  LEMME TAKE YA TO SEE CELESTIA!"

The alien flapped its feathery wings and lifted off the ground.  It flew quickly over the brown sea to the dais, where it was reduced to the size of a period.

"Well, go on, Key!  Wouldn't want to keep it waiting!"

"Fuck you, Texan,"

Key hesitated, then walked into the mire toward the dais, his boots making a wet sucking sound as he walked.

"Race you to the middle," Texan said to Nitro.

"You go ahead; I want to take in the scenery.  Think about it:  we're the first people to make contact with alien life!  Don't you think we should milk the moment?"

Texan stared at Nitro, then sprinted full throttle through the shit.  As he was running, he splashed chunks of it with each step, one of which shot into Key's teeth.

"Aw, sick!  Fuck you, Texan!  Can you at least try to act professio-hey, this stuff really is chocolate!"

"You can thank me later.  Last one there buys me a 6-pack!"

"Fine.  You get Coors!" Key yelled to a sprinting Texan.

"Fuck no! Shipyard, man!"

Texan reached the dais within two minutes, doubled over and panting.  When he looked up, he saw the shapes more clearly.

They were both of the same structure as Derpy, but with elongated noses and thinner bodies.  In addition, they were extremely tall:  the white one was nine feet tall and the blue one reached a full seven.  Each had a straight, rifled horn on its head in addition to massive wings.  The white one's mane and tail were comprised of pink, green, and blue horizontal stripes, while the blue one sported a darker blue shade than its body, strewn with white flecks.  Their manes and tails moved as if blown by a gentle breeze, but no wind was present inside the ship.

The creatures said nothing, obviously waiting for Key and Nitro.  When they caught up, the white one spoke with a stately female voice.

"I am Celestia, princess of the sun, and this is my sister Luna, princess of the night."  The white one turned its head to the blue one as it said this.  "We have ventured for light-years to find a planet suitable for habitation, our own destroyed by chaos and unhappiness."

The men noticed hundreds of aliens standing around the dais in a "D" shape, invisible to them when they came in due to their small sizes.  Each was of the exact same body type as Derpy, but with different colored manes and bodies; and different pictures on their flanks.  In addition. some were unicorns, some were pegasi, and some had no alterations to their bodies.  The leaders, however, were the only unicorn/pegasus crosses.

The soldiers looked at each other, silently debating over which one should talk to the leaders first.

Nitro, the careful thinker, spoke up fearlessly, his voice adopting a friendly, modest tone.

"Hello!  I'm Jack Holman, and, on behalf of the human race, let me be the first to say, 'Welcome to Earth.'

"Nitro, you dipshit!  Don't be nice to it!  It might shove its horn up your ass to harness your energy!" Texan said audibly through his teeth.

"If their door-horse... thing was nice to us, maybe they'll be, too!" Nitro rebutted.  "Excuse my friend, here.  He watched a lot of tentacle porn in his teenage years."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Hm-hm.  Don't worry, we don't harness energy through our horns," Celestia calmly stated.  "We use our mouths for that sort of thing,"

"Whaddya know!  I-duh-ya know-can't believe it-I almost forgot!  That's how we harness energy, too!" Texan said, his voice riddled with fear.  "So!  Now that you've answered our question, I'm sure you want to ask us one!  I'd hate to keep you w-w-wuh-wuh-waiting!"

"Pussy," Key mused.

"Don't be afraid; we mean your planet no harm.  In fact, we would like to live amongst you peacefully."

"I have a question for you," Luna said, her voice informal, but sophisticated like a female punk-rock star who had gone to finishing school.  "Are you the only sentient life on this planet?"

"Well, there are theories that deal with other creatures being sentient, but we're the only ones that talk," offered Key.

"Do you benefit from the other creatures' existence?" Luna continued.

"Definitely.  We eat meat from cows, chickens, turkeys, fish, you name it," Nitro calmly replied

"And your atmosphere?"

"Well, if we can breathe in here, it's exactly like yours.  Does your race have a name?"

"We are ponies," said Celestia.  "I sometimes refer to my subjects as 'My Little Ponies.'"

"Well, the questions and all have been really interesting, but can we go now?  We should introduce you to our leaders so you can start your new lives," Texan quickly said.

"Of course," said Celestia.  Her horn began to glow a bright pink, and with a flash of pink light, the men and all the ponies were on the ground encircling the monument, facing the Capital.

Hundreds of soldiers nearby stared at them, guns brandished.  Some lowered them, and the rest eventually followed suit, seeing no reaction from the aliens.  Four tanks were pointed up at the ship, but moved their barrels towards the aliens.  Thousands of civilians filled the Mall, holding their camera phones up.

"They're harmless!" Nitro screamed.

The civvies cheered, relieved that their first contact with extraterrestrials was a peaceful one.

General Melski stood up from a tank hatch, yelling over a megaphone.

"How can you be sure they're harmless?"

Luna spoke up in a deafening voice, making sure the whole Mall could hear.

"We mean your planet no harm!  We wish to live alongside you 'humans'  peacefully, due to our homeworld's destruction!"

"Get the president," Melski said into the tank's radio.  "We need some advice here."

Part I: The Landing (Chapter II)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter II)

To defy the laws of tradition

Is a crusade only of the brave.

-Primus, To Defy the Laws of Tradition

Richard Marlon was a Nebraskan farm boy who hated his family; this fact was known to everyone due to his obsession with its publicity.  It was obviously a method of detaching himself from his lonely, tornado-ridden childhood.  His parents divorced when he was seven, leaving his religiously psychotic mother to take care of him, his younger sister (whom he loathed passionately), and the 50-acre farm.  At age fourteen, his mother shot herself in the foot during a common "God told me to" episode.  He became detached from his mother from then on, even more so his father, who constantly displayed his new sex slave during Richard's visits to his house in Missouri.  Overall, Richard was a psychologically tormented man, but honesty was his strong suit.  Everyone he spoke to knew the gritty details of his dealings, especially if they somehow influenced his friends...

...which is exactly why he was elected President in 2008.

The bumper-stickers knew him as "TOP-The Official Peacemaker," due to his peace agreements with North Korea, Cuba, and the entire Middle East.  There was no more reason to hate America, and the world knew it.  Indeed, he hosted a TV program every Friday night named, "D.C. Unveiled," during which he kindly debunked all political rumors floating around the country in order to ease the citizens' minds.  Inspired by Franklin Roosevelt's "Fireside Chats," Marlon kept the episodes interesting by holding interviews, adopting a very informal tone, and never using a script, as if he had never been president at all.  His appearance boosted his fan base-his dirty-blond hair shaped a ragged bowl around his secretly-mushroom-shaped head.  His eyes were thin-set and contained swampy-green irises, which matched his hair in certain lights.  The face was thin and long, but became round with a simple raise of the jaw.  In addition, Marlon had the longest "lips" of any human he had ever seen.  The red labial region was normal-sized, but the skin above them stretched so far down that when he spoke (with his unnaturally deep voice, emulating a contrabass clarinet), his top gums were never visible-only the teeth.  He always kept long, reddish-brown stubble on his face and upper lip, in an attempt to look more informal.  He stood six-and-a-half feet tall and always wore a black suit and blue tie on TV (The only thing he would ever hide from anyone was the reason behind the blue tie.).  Women across the country were deeply attracted to him, and this was fortunate for Marlon.  Even though he had been raised against it, he was violently obsessed with sex, whether it be the science behind it or the physical aspects (demonstrating a prime example of the psychological "rebellion factor"-attraction is directly proportional to repulsion).  He had had himself vasectomized at age eighteen, due to his deep aversion toward babies and his distrust in his future parenting abilities.  He was, of course, single, allowing him to have sex as much as he damn well pleased with anyone he damn well pleased.  The country knew this due to his admittance to the press, but found his habits acceptable (excluding those belonging to the Church of Christ denomination-their slogan:  "Are we gonna let our leader be a dirty philanderer?  Church, we're not gonna do it."  They were the only people in the nation who voted against him.).  In truth, Marlon was nothing more than an average Joe with power, and was considered a wonderful man, despite his unnaturally strong urges.

Naturally, he was asked by Melski to make the first leader-to-leader contact with the aliens.

The meeting was held in the Oval Office, due to Marlon's welcoming nature to all visitors of his humble abode.  Camera crews from every continent (including Antarctica) were packed into the room, ready to record the groundbreaking footage.  Celestia and Marlon were sitting opposite the national Seal on the floor.  Fortunately, the president had recently updated his office with a massive, custom-designed IKEA couch that was coincidentally the perfect size for Celestia to sit on.  She lay sideways, like a tired cat; her torso covering the couch's large Metallica logo.  Marlon sat on an antique couch, compliments of the White House itself.  Marlon caught something out of the corner of his eye, something that slightly disturbed him.

She doesn't have genitalia... or an asshole, for that matter....

"'Leven minutes to air!" yelled an American cameraman with a heavy southern accent.

"I want to thank you again for being so trustful of an alien race by immediately taking us to your headquarters.  We didn't think you'd like us being here," Celestia said modestly.

"Nonsense!  In fact, thank you for showing up!  Earth needs a little excitement to make 2009 its best year ever," Marlon said with his uniquely deep, soothing voice.  "You guys don't look very threatening, so it's gonna be easy for the people to accept you.  Would it be OK if I interviewed a few of your people as well?"

"Absolutely.  I'll send a message to Spike to Twilight can get a team together."

A large scroll appeared in the air with a yellow flash, making Marlon jump.  A feather pen and pot of ink followed in the same fashion.  The three objects levitated horrifically for a few seconds, then the feather dipped itself in the ink and began to write on the page.  Celestia's horn glowed a bright yellow during this whole episode, her face showing no sign of strain, the objects glowing the same yellow shade.  Most of the camera crewmen held out their phones to capture the bizarre footage for future posting on YouTube.

After thirty seconds of quick scribbling, Celestia's horn ceased to glow, and the objects disappeared with a flash.

Marlon said nothing, his eyes inhumanly wide.

"I'm guessing magic's not something you humans can do."

Marlon slowly shook his head.

"Hm-Hm.  The message should have reached Spike by now.  He's not that far away, after all."

It was true.  At the Marlon's request, the ponies had been escorted by the army to the White House's lawn (Melski had thought the request was insane, but complied due to his personal friendship with Marlon.).

Marlon shivered, then regained his peaceful demeanor, as if slapped into line.

"Well, remember:  I barely know anything about your race's customs, so before we start, are there any questions I shouldn't ask you?"

"None that I know of.  The only thing I ask is that you don't question Fluttershy too vigorously."

"That's one of the 'team members,' I wager?"

"Yes.  She's extremely kind, but she's very shy around new pon... humans."

"That seems obvious, you know-her name having the word 'shy' in it, and all,"  Marlon let out a chuckle of acceptance.  "If that's the case, though, why are you willing to put her on worldwide TV?  That sounds like a shy person's ultimate nightmare."

"Well, I figure her demeanor will make a good impression on you humans.  It will show how innocent and harmless we truly are."

"Sounds like a plan.  Don't worry, I'll go easy on her.  One last thing:  the only question I wouldn't recommend you ask is how humans reproduce.  On Earth, that information isn't allowed to be talked about in all its glory on TV."  Marlon had attempted to downsize the F.C.C. greatly, but was overruled by congress.

"The cameras aren't rolling yet; can I at least ask why that rule exists?"

Unbeknownst to the two of them, the cameramen were eagerly listening, some still recording the conversation on their phones.

"Well.... We humans," Marlon started out, choosing his words carefully in case a camera had been flipped on by accident.  "Uh....  We don't usually disclose reproduction information on TV in case little kids are watching.  We don't usually give that information to them until their preteen years.  If, uh, you really want to know, I guess I could tell you later, but uuhhh...."

"It's OK, I understand," Celestia said with a smile, raising her front right hoof to cut him off.  "We ponies have... used to have a similar custom on our home world."

"Whew, thanks.  I get nervous when discussing that stuff near cameras, whether off or on."

"-But it would be nice to know later, so I could better familiarize myself with the human race."

Oh, Dear God....

"Yeah, maybe we can work something out.  It would have to be discrete, ya know, with the subject matter and all.  Do you want your people to hear too?"

Fuck!  Why did I ask that?  Pleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesaynopleasesayno!

"Maybe just the team, if they want to know."

DAMMIT!

Marlon, having grown up in a home that denied the existence of sex, was always uncomfortable talking about it.  He knew that there was really nothing wrong with sex, but his brain kept bringing the philosophy back from its depths.  This made his obsession all the more ironic.

"I heard a report from Melski about a pony with odd eyes; he said that the three expendables in the ship saw it," Marlon said, attempting to change the subject.

"That was Derpy.  She's very sweet, but doesn't sense danger very well.  We thought she'd be useful in greeting whatever life forms we had come across."

"What if the life was hostile and hurt her?"

"I could use my magic to heal whatever wounds she might have."

"You can heal with magic?  That's a neat trick!"

"Hm-hm.  I've survived 69,000 Equestrian years with that 'trick.'"

Heh-heh.

Marlon always had time for a little immaturity.

"Any idea how long that might be in Earth years?"

"I don't know, but Twilight probably has a book on interstellar time measurements."

Twilight?

The silence was shattered by the opening of the office door.  Five regular-sized ponies stepped into the room, being mindful of the camera cables on the floor.  Cameramen near their path stepped aside with wide eyes.

They reached Celestia's couch and sat down around it, boasting determined smiles.

Something was odd about one of them, though....

Marlon turned his attention back to the open doorway, from which a heavy rubbing sound could be heard, like skin over carpet.  After a few seconds of this sound, it was replaced by a dull, quick "sort of clopping sound," as if whatever was outside was running away.  There came a "THUD" from the far end of the hall, followed by more of the rubbing sound.  Marlon was not entirely sure, but he thought he had heard a barely audible "squeak" accompanying the "THUD."

After thirty seconds of the rubbing, a two-and-a-half foot tall purple-and-green beast appeared in the doorway, struggling to pull a long, pink strand of hair over his right shoulder.  Before Marlon could see what the hair was attached to, it yanked itself away from the purple creature, but no "clop" was present.  The beast walked out of the door frame, stopping a few feet away from the panel, by the sound of it.  Marlon heard a quiet whispering, like that of a ten-year-old, coming from the hall.

More rubbing.  This time only two small swipes.  Marlon imagined another pony outside, holding its head on the ground, shaking its head "no."

That must be Fluttershy.  Sounds like she ran into a wall back there.  Hope she didn't break anything.

The beast hesitated, then walked back into the room, staring discontentedly at Celestia.

"Couldn't you have just teleported her here?"

The voice from outside had definitely come from this thing.

"She would have had a heart attack if I had done that.  You know how she acts after teleportation," Celestia said to the creature.

"Wait a minute-you can teleport?"  Marlon had not seen the ponies teleport to the ground earlier, so he was naturally surprised.  "Why didn't you just zap yourself here instead of walking through the house?  You had to duck for most of the doorways," Marlon pointed out.

"I didn't know if you humans could perform magic yet, and I didn't want to startle the armed guards outside."

"Well, I'm out of ideas," the creature said, apparently oblivious to Marlon.  It sat down, massaging its arms.

"I don't remember seeing you on the lawn.  I'm guessing you're Spike, though, judging by those spikes on your tail," Marlon said.

"The one and only," the creature said through clenched teeth, obviously in pain from its strenuous exercise.

Marlon took a closer look at the thing before him, amazed that such a thing was real.

A dragon.  This thing was definitely a dragon.  It shared the exact description from the books Marlon had read as a kid:  lizard-like scales, ribbed torso, claw-like hands and feet, sharp teeth, fin-like structures on the top and side of its head, spikes on its back and tail-Marlon would have gone head-over-heels for this thing had he been seven.  It had large, disc-shaped eyes, exactly as the ponies did.  Its irises, and top fin-structure were a deep, grassy green.  The spikes and side fins were a lighter shade of green, like that of a computer light; its nose was of the same structure as the ponies'.

Wonder how many genes they share....

"Are you... a dragon?"

"How did you know?" the beast replied, recovering from his arm cramp.

"There are old myths about dragons on Earth.  The pictures look something like you, but... bigger."

"Ah, yes.  So that's what happened after that team...," Celestia said quietly, trailing off.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a long story.  I can elaborate on it later."

Marlon hesitated, thinking of what the story consisted of.

"Well, we have a bit of time before we air, so it would be... well, nice to get to know my interviewees a bit better with a little introduction," Marlon said as he shifted his eyes across the polychromatic menagerie.  As he did this, he bent over slightly to rest his arm on his thigh.

"These are five of my most loyal subjects:  AppleJack, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and my faithful student Twilight Sparkle."  As Celestia listed the five, she pointed a hoof at each.

"Wild guess:  that's Fluttershy there in the hall?"

"Hm-Hm"

Wow, she does that a lot.

"Give her some time, she'll come in eventually."

"OK, then....  Uh, Hello....  I'm Richard Marlon, but you can call me whatever you want, I guess.  Heh-heh."

The ponies made no movements; they just stared at him blankly.

"OK, I'll just go down the line, then."  Marlon stared at the one farthest to the left, AppleJack.  Her (The creature had eyelashes, as did the rest of the ponies there.) skin was a bright orange, and had a symbol of three apples on each flank.  Her face sported freckles, green irises, and a braided mane, held together with a red band (The tail was identical.).  She wore a large (cowboy hat?) on her head.

What the fuck...?

"Hi, there," Marlon held out his hand.

AppleJack stared at it for a few seconds, then moved forward and put her hoof in his.  It was covered in dried brown stains.  It smelled like-

Chocolate?

"How'd'ya do?" AppleJack said, and shook her hoof.  She spoke with a heavy southern accent.

What the hell?  Sounds like she's from the deep south...  West Virginia, maybe?

"Where do you get that accent from?"

"Appleoosa, where I was born."

"On Earth, there are certain parts of the world where people talk just like you.  You'd love it there.

Are you... associated with... uh... do you know what cider is?"

That was a stupid question.

"Sure do.  Ma family's made it for gen-ee-rations.  How'd'ya know?"

Son of a bitch!

"Just a hunch, judging by those apples on your flank and that farm-style appearance of yours."

And "Apple Jack" is Earth slang for hard cider.

"Well, thank ya kindly fer acceptin' us, I guess.  I'm awf'ly s'prised."

"Well, I'm not easily fazed by the unusual."

I've had too much to be startled anymore.

AppleJack walked backwards to her original spot.  The next one came forward and put her hoof in his hand, saying nothing.  No movement of the hoof-holding it was enough.  This one had bleach-white skin with dark-purple, elaborately curled hair.  Three diamond pictures graced each flank.  Her irises were a deep, glassy blue and her eyes overall were frighteningly blank.  A short version of Celestia's horn graced her forehead.  Judging by Celestia's brief introduction, this one was Rarity.

"Hello, you must be Rarity.  You seem to be dedicated to your appearance; your hooves are actually clean."

"Well, why would one want to have that stuff on their appendages anyway?  It was a horrible voyage; the stuff was all over the ship."  Rarity spoke with a stereotypically proper high-life voice.  Her voice made her sound as if she were trying to fake a British accent.

"What's so wrong with chocolate?" Marlon asked humorously.

"Is... that what you humans call it?  You actually... h-h-have that stuff here?"  Rarity's voice became more frightened as the thought entered her head.

"Well, I'm not sure if that stuff on your friends' hooves is chocolate, but it sure smells like it."  Marlon had always liked to tease visitors.

"Well, please tell me you dispose of it properly!  Can't go walking around with 'chocolate,' as you humans call it, all over the place!"

Is chocolate their... shit?  Why is that hilarious?

"Of course we do!  We humans are very tidy when it comes to chocolate!"

After we're done eating it, we throw away the wrappers good an' proper!

Marlon tried to contain a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"I just remembered a really funny joke.  You probably wouldn't get it, though.  It's an Earthling joke."

"O... K, then,"

Rarity walked backwards to the couch.  Out of the corner of her eye, though, she saw a cameraman eating a Hershey bar.  She turned her head ever so slightly to see if her nightmare had been realized.

Milk Chocolate.

Rarity's jaw slowly dropped, horror encasing her face like a helmet.

Marlon looked at the next one in line-a pink pony with freakishly poofy hair, baby-blue irises, and balloons and streamers on each flank.

"Hi, you must be Pink-"

*WHAM!*

Surprised they're that heavy.

Rarity lay on the floor sideways, one front leg pulled up to her forehead in a stereotypical fainting pose.  She looked as if she had just been shot.

Marlon was terrified.  What would the alien race think if they knew his joking had incapacitated one of their friends?

"Don't worry.  She does that quite often."

Celestia's horn glowed, making a TASER* appear above Rarity's neck.

*ZAP!*

"WHUZZUWUHUHWHUUHH?!?!?"

Rarity stood up, rubbing her neck in pain.

"My mane!  It feels singed!"

Indeed, the TASER had made a barely visible black mark on her mane; the stuff was obviously sensitive to electricity.

Celestia's horn glowed, and, with a flash, the TASER was gone, and the black spot was no longer visible.  Rarity said nothing, sulking back to her side of the couch.

"I didn't imagine that TASER's would exist on your planet," Marlon said astoundedly.

"They don't.  I saw one of your law enforcement officers use one on a vagrant on my way to your house, so I thought it would work for this situation."

Marlon stared for a moment, then flipped his face back toward Pinkie.

This pony approached him fearlessly, gladly depositing her chocolatey hoof into his hand.

"Hi there, Mr. 'Earth-Leader-Man!'"  Pinkie's high-pitched, perky voice deepened sharply upon her announcement of the title.

Then it got high again....     "Myrealname'sPinkamenaDianePiebutyoucancallmePinkielikeyoujustdidyoumustbeveryobservantdoyouhavepartieshereonEarthOOHHIlovepartiesheyyoulooklikeyoucoulduseacupcakewantacupcake?here'sacupcakeforyourtroubles!"

Pinkie shook Marlon's hand violently while she emitted the deluge of words.  At the end of this, she reached into her hair and pulled out a previously invisible cupcake with bright green icing.  She pulled his jaw down sharply and shoved the bite-sized cupcake into his mouth.  She used her hoof to push his jaw up and down to chew it.  The cupcake tasted like one from Giant:  tasty yellow cake with pasty, sugary icing.

"Whaddya think?"  Pinkie pushed her face up to his until their noses were jammed together, a massive grin glued to her face.  The glassiness of her monstrous eyes made Marlon slightly uneasy; she smelled strongly of bubble gum and chocolate.

These similar smells are getting creepy....

"It tastes great!  What's it made of?"

"Well, let's see.... If I remember right, it's made of... acupofflourrandomsweetstuffapinchofsaltateaspoonofvanillaortwoandabigheapingbucketof DRAGON LARD!!!!!!"

Pinkie delivered her sped-up speech while pressed against Marlon's nose, making the last line torture his ear drums.

"I see.  Well, you did a very good job on it.  Just like the ones on Earth, minus the dragon lard."

"Thanksalotmisterleaderman!  MMMMWWWAAHHH!"

Pinkie grabbed the back of Marlon's head with her hooves and delivered a massive smooch (which actually did taste like bubble gum) onto his unsuspecting lips, reminding him of the classic Bugs Bunny routine.

I just got kissed by... an alien?  Why am I getting a boner from this?.

Marlon felt no fear; he wore an ingeniously-designed plastic "cup" should things arise during a performance.

Pinkie walked backwards to her original space, smiling innocently the whole way.

Are they embarrassed by their lack of genitalia?  They always walk backwards.

The next one (a pegasus?) sported an '80's-style rainbow-colored mullet and tail and fuschia irises, her flanks reflecting a cloud shitting out a rainbow lightning bolt.

She moved across the seal and shook his hand

This is The Sound of Music on acid.

"Well, mister... Marlon is it?  I hear you're the big cheese around here, so I'm gonna make this plain and simple:  Can. You. Fly."

The pegasus pointed her hoof at him forcibly with each iteration.

"Uh, no.  Humans can't fly.  We have machines that we fly in, if that's any consolation."

"That's OK.  I want something to test my flying skills against, ya know?"

"Well, for starters, you can go against a Blackbird:  goes faster than sound," Marlon said sarcastically.

Her irises and pupils shrunk proportionally, leaving the eye sockets dominated by scleras.  Her jaw fell six inches vertically, exposing a reddish-pink mouth, exactly like a human's, with the exception of bleached, smooth teeth, which were hidden by its "lips."

This thing looks like it walked out of a cartoon!

"Challenge... accepted...," she said, still in a state of shock.  "I'm Rainbow Dash, but you can call me Dashie, Dash, Rainbow, whatever you prefer."  The face was still blank and awestruck.

As Dashie walked (backwards, of course) to the couch, Marlon's mind capitalized on its previous observation:  Something's off about that one:  the tomboy-ish voice, the rainbow mullet (noticed it when she came in), overly athletic....  Is that one a lesbian?  Their personalities are similar enough to humans', what if their appearance of homosexuality is similar?

Couldn't be.  I must be jumping to conclusions again.

"Hi, I'm Twilight Sparkle, but you can call me Twilight if you want,"

The lavender-shaded (skin and iris), horn-bearing pony did not wait for Marlon's introduction.  Its mane and tail were a deep purple like Rarity's, but displayed a thin, pink, vertical stripe.  On each flank was a large, pink star shape, surrounded by white flecks.

Twilight's horn glowed pink, and so did Marlon's arm; his mouth struggled to supress a scream.  His arm was lifted slowly upward by an invisible force that he was unable to fight against.  His hand positioned itself in a classic handshake pose, and Twilight put her hoof in it.  The invisible force moved Marlon's arm up and down while he watched helplessly.  The arm ceased to glow as Twilight shut off her horn.

"I can imagine that magic is a new concept for you humans, so I wanted to give you a formal introduction to it-literally."

"Yes, well, uh-th-thank you, miss...uh... Twilight," Marlon stuttered before "snapping" himself back into full consciousness.  Twilight's voice was soothing to him, but he could not determine why.  It sounded like that of a cubicle-worker in her early twenties, but it was oddly sympathetic.

"I would normally offer to teach you some, but only unicorns like myself can perform magic.  It's one of those 'biological' things."

"Yes, indeed.  Maybe you could help some scientists figure out a machine that could enable humans to do that.  It definitely sounds like something that could benefit mankind."

"I'd be honored sir!" Twilight said dutifully, and returned to the couch.

"Now where's Fluttershy?" Marlon said loudly.  "She's the last one on the team, and I'd hate to miss out on meeting her."

Marlon turned his head to the right and saw his first glimpse of the creature.

A head was peeking through the doorway, looking extremely cautious.  Its bright-pink mane was set in a wide fashion, partially covering the yellow face.  The spectacle reminded Marlon of his pet during his teenage years, a black cat named Inky.  She would always peek through doorways before entering rooms.

"Hi, there.  You must be Fluttershy!"

The head nodded timidly.

"You can come up here, it's OK.  Nobody's gonna hurt you."  Marlon held out his hand sympathetically.

The head moved further inward, nervously analyzing the room.  The cameramen were staring at her, some "aww-ing" quietly at her appearance.

"Nobody's gonna hurt you," Marlon patiently restated.

"You're among friends," a Scottish cameraman said.  "You can trust us."

The rest of the personnel nodded in agreement.

Fluttershy made herself visible for the first time, horrified as she slowly walked to Marlon.  The pink butterflies on her flanks symbolized her innocence, as well as her teal irises.

Her hoof trembled as she gazed, wide-eyed, at Marlon.  The face reminded him of the time he had to visit his mother in the hospital after her "gun incident."  Maybe it was what his looked like.

Mom, are you OK?

Yes, Rich, I'm fine.  Where's your father?

He couldn't be here.  He had to... uh... run some errands.  Have they been treating you nicely here?

Yes, it's fine.  There are some weird people in here, though.  One is always screaming at night, and another is always banging his head against the wall.

His mom, in fact, was the most sane person there.

Can you do me a favor?

What's that, Mom?

Take off my cast.

Why?

Go get a nurse and tell her to take it off, I feel better now.

That can't be.  You just got here two days ago.

My child, tell someone to remove the cast.  Get Richard to do it if no one is available.

Her eyes were tightly shut.

Mom?

Richard, grab a saw from another room and take off the cast.  The Lord is telling me to walk in his steps.

W-What do you mean?

She shut her eyes again.

Richard, get a saw and do not question me, your God.  I want your mother, Rebecca, to preach my name across the town.

M-Mom?  I thought they fixed you.  Richard was becoming worried.  Even though he was fourteen, he still cared about his mother and wanted her mind to be "fixed."

Are you feeling OK, mom?

His mother picked up a notepad and a pen from the metal nightstand next to her bed.  As she flipped it open, Marlon saw extensive notes inside, dealing with visions and verses from Revelation.  His mother flipped to a blank page and began to scribble randomly on the page, dictating a note to herself.

Richard, my loyal son, I want you to become a preacher in your life.  People must know my name, and I want you, my favorite of all my creations, to do it.  Your saintly mother will not be on Earth for much longer, and I wish for you to be the Brother of Jesus.

M-Mom?  Richard's eyes were tearing up.  I'm g-gonna get a doctor, OK?  They'll fix you up good 'n' proper.

DO NOT GET A DOCTOR!  THEY ARE INCAPABLE OF SEEING MY TRUE POWER, THINKING ALL HEALING IS IN THEIR HANDS!  You, however, will surely be accepted into Heaven, my beautiful son.

I-I-I'm gonna g-go to the bathroom now, Mom-er-uh-God.  I need to-uh-wash my hands.  I think I touched something nasty in the hall.

There is no need.  I will cure you instantly of all diseases.  Your only fate will be age.

Well-I-uh... have to go to the bathroom.  I really need to wash up.

Then do so, my son.  It is important to keep your body clean.

OK, I'll be back s-s-soon.  Marlon's face was drenched with quiet tears.  He left the room and found a doctor.

Please fix my Mom's brain.  I know you can't do everything, but please try harder-she's gone crazy.

His mother's mind was never healed.  Similar episodes continued until her religious bridge-jump when Marlon was seventeen.  It was the fifteenth, and last, time she would ever be in the hospital.  Fortunately, Marlon had distanced himself enough from her to mourn little.

The last word was a resounding gong in his mind, bubbling up from dark depths after all these years.  It was the first time in eons that he had felt sympathy for his mother, making his eyes nearly tear up.

"C'mere,"  Marlon said quietly as he moved to kneel on the ground.  He hugged Fluttershy around her neck, his head pressed against her warm, grassy-smelling hair.

"Awwww...." some cameramen cooed to themselves, once again exposing their camera phones.

She's softer than the others-it's like hugging a pillow.

Fluttershy pulled herself back, then put her hooves around his torso to re-embrace him.  Marlon saw wings on her body, but hugged around them, as if embracing a human.  The hug was a reminder to him of the love his mother had shown when he had been young, before her insanity outbreak.

More awww's, including quiet ones from the rest of the ponies.

"How do you do, Fluttershy?" Marlon broke the embrace to shake.

"Um... OK, I guess," she whispered in a small, high voice.

"Is there anything I can do to make your stay on Earth more comfortable?"

"Um... d-do you have animals here?"

"Of course!  We've got dogs, cats, birds, fish, insects, you name it."

"R-really?  Where are they?"

"Well, we have a zoo here in D.C., but you can find 'em in the wild outside the city."

"C-can you show me s-sometime-if that's not a problem?"

"Well, I'll see if I can work something out, 'kay?  Just don't eat 'em," Marlon said sarcastically.

"Oh, goodness, no!  I love animals.  They make great friends, once you get past the fact that they can't talk."

"Indeed.  You'll be fine here," Marlon said as he patted Fluttershy's back.  She walked to the couch forwards, unlike the rest.

A-MOTHERFUCKING-HA!!

No vulva, no sphincter, nothing.

They must be embarrased.  Why, though?

"One to air!"

"OK, everybody, here's how this is gonna work.  I'm gonna interview Celestia first, then you six, just like we did before.  All you gotta do is act natural.  When I introduce you, come and shake my hand, just like before.  The rest of you can sit down if you'd like.  Simple enough, right?"

The ponies nodded their heads in agreement.

Celestia's horn glowed, making a golden tiara appear on her head, a golden necklace around the base of her neck, and golden coverings on her hooves (the coverings reached a foot up her leg, starting smoothly and working upward in elaborate curlicues.).

She obviously likes gold.

"OOH!  OOH!  Question!" Pinkie interjected with a frontal hoof in the air.  "What's with the big setup?  Who are we gonna be interviewed for?  Oops!  That's two."

"These cameras are connected to TV stations across the planet; it's a way for people to get a better idea of who you are, so that we don't have any unnecessary hostility."

"Okee-Dokee-Richie-Marlie!"

"Thirty!"

The cameramen stood at their screens, the sound men at their booms, all ready to witness a(nother) historic moment.

"Alrighty, guys!  Good luck!  They'll love ya!"

"Ten!  Nine!  Eight!  Seven!  Six!  Five!  Four!  Three!"

"So we'll be seen by humans across the... planet?" Fluttershy said quietly.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine!"

"You're on air!"

Part I: The Landing (Chapter III)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter III)

I dive in at the deep end

You become my best friend

-Coldplay, X & Y

The sunset was beautiful-it made the world look like a '90's commercial for soup or cough syrup.  It made a perfect backdrop for Marlon's show....

...Or at least it would have, had the ship not been in the way.  The metal wad blocked much of the sunlight, only letting some in from the sides; Constitution Avenue was experiencing midnight at 7 PM.  The only light came from streetlamps and the hundreds of citizens gathered around the lawn snapping flash photographs of the multitude of aliens.  Fortunately, a myriad of soldiers had been positioned behind the gates, whose gun brandishing skills kept the citizens at bay.  One citizen charged the gate, forcing a soldier (codename:  Artery) to decorate his cerebellum with a hole.  The cut was so clean that one could have, with a little handiwork, inserted lenses to create a functioning monocular (had the blood not been "pulling a Niagara Falls").

Meanwhile, Richard Marlon was beginning another exciting episode of "D.C. Unveiled."  The theme music (which had graciously been recorded by Widespread Panic:  one of the President's favorite bands) had been rolled, and Marlon smiled for the American camera, which was purposely zoomed in to only show his head.  The other cameras followed suit, but from different angles.

"Good evening, America!  Tonight I have some breaking news for all of you, and it might be hard for some of you to take in:  aliens... exist.  Yes, you heard me correctly:  aliens... exist.  For those of you who haven't heard, a massive UFO landed in D.C. this morning, placing itself on top of the Washington Monument.  My friend General Melski called up and asked if he should shoot 'em.  'No,' I said.  'If they're not showing any present signs of hostility, I wanna see 'em myself!  Don't want to make a bad impression on 'em if they're not hostile!'  So, I went out to the Mall and shoved my way through the crowd of people and soldiers to get a better look at our visitors.  Most of the people thought I had snapped-putting my life in danger like this.  But, there were no signs of hostility, so naturally, I was curious.

As it turns out, these things are shaped like horses; some of them are actually unicorns and pegasi.  I was astonished at the sight and walked strongly to the leaders and said-

*UUURRPPP!!*

No!  No!  That's not what I said.  Sorry, folks.  I had a soda earlier and, well, some things just slip out."

Marlon always included a bit of humor in his broadcasts to keep the audience interested.  He was obsessed with breaking the "boring, stuck-up politician" routine, but this accidental belch embarrassed him, what with the unusually momentous occasion and all.

"What I actually said was, 'On behalf of the human race, I welcome you to planet Earth.  I am Richard Xavier Marlon, President of the United States of America.'

The leaders introduced themselves as Celestia and Luna, and formally stated that they meant peace to our race.  Their homeworld had been destroyed, and they were looking for a new place to live.  Questions remain, though:  where exactly did they come from?  What do they eat?  Why can they speak English?

Fortunately, they're right here to answer those questions!"

The cameras zoomed-out from his head to capture the entire room, exposing Celestia, the six ponies, and Spike, who was casually sitting down and reclining against the left arm (the closest to the American camera) of Celestia's couch, his hands cradling the back of his head like a cigar-smoking business executive who had just closed a deal.

"I thought it would be good idea for the world to watch an interview with the aliens to ease any fear.  As I said earlier, the last thing we need is another war.

Today we have the privilege of interviewing Celestia and seven of her subjects, some of which are, in fact, the aforementioned unicorns and pegasi.  Trust me, you're looking at your screen correctly.

Luna doesn't usually come out until the deep night-time due to her photosensitivity, so I didn't want to put her through another strenuous experience (As if the whole new-world thing wasn't enough!).  To make the transition more durable, I'm letting her stay in my walk-in closet with all the lights turned off.  My personnel will show her how to get to the Oval Office if she wants to be in the interview.

So, Celestia, thank you for being here today and being so... accepting of a new race."

"You're very welcome.  I thank you for doing the same.  I imagine that many of your people would not have had the same reaction."

"Not everyone on Earth counts as 'my people,' but you're probably right.  The U.S.A. is just one of many countries on Earth.  For some reason, a lot of people look up to me, so I decided to make first public contact.  I imagine those three soldiers in the ship were the real 'first,' though."

"Yes; they were nice people.  One introduced himself as 'Jack Holman,' another wanted only to leave the ship, and one just looked around with a straight face the whole time.  Were those your elite soldiers?"

"Not exactly,"  Marlon said.  In truth, those lower-ranks were sent in as recon to check for hostility, since Melski didn't want to sacrifice the elite ones just yet.

Besides, Melski had said, recruitment rate's low enough as it is.  With the budget cuts and all, we can't afford to throw the best, guns-a-blazin' guys in there-might lose 'em and have to spend a ton more money on years of training.  Also, maybe the more inexperienced ones are more "close to home," and can make a better impression.  Besides... whispered Melski, those were the kind of guys who barely got promoted at all.  Melski's decision had made the social media erupt with angry comments from those who sat at home and presumably masturbated to the military all day.  Melski hated social media, but his friends had e-mailed some comments to him to inform him of public opinion.  The worst posts were from the army and marine loyalists (who were, for the most part, not members of either organization): Why didn't they have hazmat suits?  Why'd you send low-ranks in there, fucktard! Why did you believe them when they said they weren't hostile?  You shoulda shot first, cockwipe!  Does no one in the whole military have any goddam common sense anymore?!?

How the people knew that Melski had made the decision, he would never know.  Probably some wacko eavesdropping janitor told it to his kids, or something.  Besides, Melski had never dealt with aliens before.

Pussy! the media loyalists had kept writing.

Can't believe anyone actually gets horny by the U.S. military.  Our forces are something to be proud of, but... damn....

Melski's words rang in Marlon's head as he had his quick flashback.  In hindsight, it was unusually cruel to sacrifice slackers, but the task had been completed, and there was no use in arguing about it now.

"It's a long story, but we had a definite reason for sending them in there above others."

It's the truth.

"Anyhow, let's get down to business!  So, Celestia, why have you come to Earth?"

"Our homeworld, the planet Equestria, was destroyed by Discord, the god of chaos.  He had been trying for many years to undo my rule, but he finally completed the task on his third major attempt.  Fortunately, my network of informants alerted me of his attack, so I had time to prepare my people."

"I know you said he's the 'god of chaos,' but can you give a more complete description?  I like to be able to perfectly picture things in my head."

"His head vaguely resembles a pony's, and his body is made up of other mismatched animal parts, such as the arms of a lion and lizard.  He has four limbs, but the body is long and thin, like a snake's.  He can fly, teleport, and hypnotize ponies, and has been a scourge to Equestria since his birth."

"And you've actually seen him?  He isn't just some drawing?"

"Sometimes he appears as one, but can physically remove himself from the paper.  Once, he literally made himself a part of Canterlot's stained glass windows, and moved through them as he normally would have in three dimensions."

Holy shit, that's creepy.

"How did he destroy the planet, might I ask, and why did you choose that giant disc for a ship?"

"Discord used his magic to lift the surface of Equestria into space, killing all other life on the planet....  I had never known he was that powerful.  I had had a troubling time choosing a vessel for our escape, but the only thing I could find that was small enough to be powered by a normal-sized Magic Combustion Engine and could hold all of my people was the septic tank underneath Canterlot Castle."

Marlon's eyes widened, but the skin above was pulled taut to arch his eyebrows.

"So... that explains the brown stuff on your... so I was right, then....

In case you're wondering, it smells like chocolate.  Who'da thunk it?" Marlon said quickly to the people of Earth.

"Well, why couldn't you have used a larger Magic Combustion Engine... whatever that is... and picked a different vessel?"

"A Magic Combustion Engine, or M.C.E., is powered by a unicorn's magic.  Small M.C.E.'s are used as electric generators if we experience blackouts (the pegasi sometimes overdo it with their storms).  They can easily be powered by a single unicorn."

"No, we don't," said Dashie under her breath.

"The medium-sized M.C.E.'s require the combined powers of my sister and I, and are used for hyperspeed propulsion.  The ship's staying aloft right now with power from a reserve battery stored on the ship's maintenance deck.  My sister and I gave it a blast of magic energy before we left Equestria that should let it hover for about 10 years.  With the tank's antennae, the ship is difficult to actually land, of course.  There is only one large M.C.E. in existence, and it has been flung into space by now.  It requires the combined power of every single living unicorn, plus Luna and I.  It would cause all of us to experience great physical strain, unlike the other M.C.E. versions.  If we were to engage in its operation for more than four straight hours, our muscles would contract violently and painfully, due to the unicorns' lack of magic energy to power their muscles.

The machine was stored inside the mountain that Canterlot Castle rested on, and was only to be used if our Sun was to stop conducting fusion altogether.  The engine would fire a concentrated beam of magic energy at our star to reverse its passage through time until it returned to a main sequence state.  Otherwise, Equestria would be swallowed by a black hole."

"Has the machine ever been used?"

"Once, ten thousand years ago.  Our star was so close to oblivion that the machine was used for six hours straight.  Most of the unicorn population died that day, but some miraculously survived, which is why unicorns still exist today."

"Well, that's quite an interesting history lesson.  One odd little question though:  what are the antennae on the ship for?"

"Those are magic conduits that teleported the... unwanted residue... to our lifeless sister planet, Emptium.  Starswirl pointed it out as fifty times as large as Equestria, which would equate to ten times the size of Earth.  Its surface is made of nothing but smooth, grey, rock, and its winds of pure Chunk Gas make it extremely undesirable to colonize.  Thus it is a perfect place to send useless things in general."

"What's with the stains, then?"

"The tank hadn't been emptied before we left Equestria, and we didn't want to dump it into space, for fear of its eventual collision with an inhabited planet.  It's relatively harmless to us, but we didn't know if it would be considered toxic by other life forms."

"This is actually a very interesting story, but can we focus on your homeworld itself, now?  Not all the people of Earth really like to hear about... ya know... that stuff.

Sorry, people of Earth.  I was curious," Marlon said to the American camera.

"I understand.  You may continue with your questions."

"So... your homeworld was called Equestria, eh?  On Earth, we use the term 'equestrian' to describe horses, which you definitely resemble.  That's interesting, since your race is called 'the Ponies.'  Do you have an explanation for this, or is it just a one-in-a-billion coincidence?"

"Well..."

Celestia put her hoof to her chin, deeply pondering how to respond.

"We've... been to Earth before,"  Celestia said to a camera guiltily.  "We didn't let on to this fact so as not to alarm you humans."

"Wow, that explains a lot!"  Marlon turned to face the camera, parodying a Ferris Bueller facial expression.  "Quite a bombshell, eh, folks?

When did you do this?" asked Marlon, as intrigued as a Jerry Springer audience member.

Celestia turned to the American camera for her next history lesson:  "We Equestrians have dabbled in space travel throughout the ages, and once sought to find other habitable planets for possible colonization if our population were to increase obnoxiously.  The explorers traveled in vessels powered by unicorn magic alone.  Spells were used to allow them to live for years at a time while eating little, as we used for our recent journey.

Nearly three-thousand years ago, a team of five ponies and three dragons ventured into space.  They sent back written messages of a planet known by its inhabitants as "Earth."  They were able to communicate with the inhabitants via translation spells;  whatever the inhabitants said was translated into Equestrian, and the team's voices were automatically translated into the local language.

The team members were hailed as gods by the locals, which were humans just like you.  The two races consequently lived in peace, and were constantly exchanging lessons of civilization, technology, and friendship in general.  After many years though, rival human factions grew hostile towards the team.  In the process, the Equestrians' ship was destroyed.  I received many messages, begging for help, but they were too far into space for my teleportation spell to work.  Magic is, after all, based on mass and distance, which is why the thin written messages could be sent.

Each member of the team was eventually killed, but the last two unicorns to die used a memory-wipe spell on the humans.  Unfortunately, it was not very strong, only being performed by two ponies at once.  I imagine that some of the locals kept stories of our race."

"Well, why did you decide to come back?" a sympathetic Marlon inquired.

"There are two reasons:  For one, this was the only planet we had ever found to contain enough plants and water to support us.  In addition, we had thought you humans would have become extinct by now, victims of your own wars.  We were wrong, and your society has greatly changed."

"I suddenly feel important," Marlon said comedically.  "One queston:  did the team ever describe exactly where they had landed?"

"They were near a large sea, surrounded by the locals' architecture.  It was all based on rectangles and elaborate columns."

Marlon pondered this for a moment, then remembered the Donald in Mathemagic Land tape he had seen when he was young.

Architecture was based on "The Golden Section."  The rectangles repeat themselves in examples like this-the Parthenon...

"That must have been ancient Greece.  And in case you were wondering, they did keep stories about you; we know them today.  They're known as the "Greek Myths," but I guess the one about pegasi wasn't as mythical as I had thought.  There were stories of dragons from the medieval ages, so the stories must have been passed down until they reached Europe."  Marlon spoke deliberately, due to his interest in history, especially the kind that had living accounts.

"Well, that was definitely interesting, Celestia, and I hope to hear more soon.

We'll be back after these messages," Marlon said to America.  "Sorry 'bout that, folks, but I don't want to use your tax money on this completely unnecessary show."

He smiled and made a thumbs-up as the cameras faded out.

"OK, that was great!  Keep it up!

Don't you worry, you'll get your turns once Celestia's finished," he said to the seven smaller creatures.

"U-um, Mr. Marlon, uh, sir?" said Fluttershy timidly.  She had been sure to sit the farthest away from the American camera.

"What's wrong there, Fluttershy?"

"Um-uh, will I... h-have to talk in front of all these people?"

"Well, it would certainly be nice if you could.  You'd make a great impression on the humans with your personality.  Besides, the cameras aren't people-they're just machines.  Technically, you won't be talking in front of anyone at all except for the camera crew."

A cameraman waved toward the yellow creature.

"Well, I-I-I-I'm a little scared."

Please fix my mom's brain!

"Tell ya what:  you don't have to talk if you don't want to, but if you change your mind, imagine that the cameras are your best friends.  Just act as you would in front of said friends; that's what I always do.

That goes for the rest of you, too.  Stage fright is easily curable with little mind tricks like that."

Twilight poofed a notepad into existence, and telekinetically picked up one of Marlon's pens from his desk.

"Do you mind if I use this?  That was an interesting little lesson that I could probably use later."

"No problem.  Just remember to put it back when you're done."

"Oh, that won't be a problem..."

"Y'all might wanna trust 'er on that'un," added AppleJack.

"Duly noted," replied Marlon.

Twilight quickly scribbled something down, then poofed away the notepad to wherever the hell it came from, and placed the pen exactly where it had been.

"Thanks, Mr. Marlon."

"Where did you get that notepad?  Did you just transform air into paper or what?"

"I teleported it from my room on the upper deck of the ship.  I'm practicing pure matter transformation, but I'm not that good at it yet.  Teleportation's a much easier spell."

Marlon's eyes flinched to the Scottish cameraman.

Beam me up, Scotty...

Marlon subdued a chuckle at the reference.

"We might want to get ready again-the commercial will be over soon."

The American cameraman held up ten fingers and counted down.

"Alright, everybody, it's showtime... again!"

The cameraman pointed at Marlon, his hand in a rubber-band-shooting pose.

"Welcome back to D.C. Unveiled, everyone.  For those of you who didn't set your DVR's to this channel:  a quick recap.

A-hem...  Aliens!!"  Marlon held out his arms to the ponies.

"So, Celestia, I've got a few more Q's for you, and then we can move on to your subjects, Kay?"

"Hm-hm.  Continue."

"I remember you said something about a translation spell earlier that allows your language to automatically be translated into the surrounding one.  Are you using it on us now?  If you are, why isn't your horn glowing?"

"Yes.  I'm using it now.  I'm casting it over all of my subjects in this room, while other unicorns outside are performing it on the ones nearest them.  And my horn isn't glowing because this is a spell that requires only microscopic amounts of magic.  Ironically, it uses less energy than teleportation, and my horn's brightness is directly proportional to the energy being used."

"She's a pip, eh, folks?

Well, Celestia, could you do me a favor and possibly turn the translator off so we can hear what your original language sounds like?"

"Of course."

Celestia stared at Marlon, as did the other ponies.

"Well?  Can you say something?"

Nothing.  The ponies didn't say anything-didn't even move their mouths.  Celestia turned to Twilight and nodded her head, as if in response to a question.

Marlon suddenly felt the urge to go to the bathroom.

Oh, that's just wonderful.  My intenstines wait until I'm on TV to start pushin'.

Stronger now.  Celestia stared at him and cocked her head slightly, as if waiting for him to say something.

Marlon saw a cameraman begin to clutch his abdomen.  He appeared to be straining himself greatly.

The urge was stronger now-his guts seeming to unravel by the second.

Not on TV!  Not on TV!

What could be the matter?  Marlon had not had a big breakfast nor a lot of soda; he had barely eaten anything all day.

The ponies were moving their heads at each other, as if in conversation, but Marlon could hear nothing.

Why can't I hear them?

At that moment, Marlon remembered a lecture about sound waves from his high school physics class.

If the body is exposed to waves that have a low enough frequency, their guts will loosen up, causing them to shit their pants like a madman.

Marlon's photographic memory served him well.  Otherwise, he would never have thought to say:

"T-turn it back on.  Turn it back on."

Marlon mouthed this heavily, and waved his index finger in a circular motion to emphasize his point beyond the translation barrier.

It's the brown note!  What kind of a language is this?!

"Are you OK?" said Celestia.

The urge stopped immediately, but the shit was ready to flow free.  Marlon had to exercise his expert undercover squeezing skills.

"Yes, yes.  I'm fine.  Everybody OK?" he said to the crew.

They gave thumbs-ups, except for a light operator, who had presumably run to the bathroom.

"Well, people of Earth, the reason that they didn't make any sound is because their language is spoken with such a low frequency that we can't hear it.  How do I know this?  Let me put it this way:  I feel like I just ate bad chicken and a can of beans at the same time.  I hope your speakers at home didn't convey it so well."

Marlon was still clutching his belly, panting slightly and sweating from his episode.

"I'll try to make it to the next commercial break," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm sorry if I caused you pain.  Your ears don't seem to be calibrated to our low frequencies."

"It's no problem.  I should've asked."

That would have been a stupid fuckin' question:  "Just out of curiosity, your language isn't spoken in the brown note, is it?"

Marlon was intrigued by the fact that the frequency was completely readjusted with their speaking style; the translation magic was strong stuff.

"Why weren't your mouths moving?"

"Our mouths aren't moving now; it's an illusion that accompanies the translation spell-a form of mild hypnosis, if you will.  We only use our mouths for eating, since our language is spoken from deep within the throat and requires no mouth movement.  The illusion is put on so as not to frighten foreign races."

Marlon remembered the Twilight Zone episode To Serve Man, with the aliens whose mouths stayed motionless.

She's right.  That would be creepy as hell!

"Before the next commercial break, can you tell me where Equestria is in respect to Earth?"

"We live in a large galaxy not too far from yours.  With the M.C.E. installed, our journey here took about three years.  Compared to the rest of the universe, that's comparable a nanosecond."

"Do you have a name for the galaxy?"

"We call it 'The Equestrian Spiral,' but you might have a different name for it.  I'm sure Twilight knows of some good star charts."

"Twilight, can you get one here?"

"Yes,"  Twilight walked forward to the seal and shook Marlon's hand (again).

"Folks, this is Twilight Sparkle, one of Celestia's subjects.  Believe it or not, these creatures can perform magic.  Turns out it wasn't mythical after all!  So, Miss Sparkle, would you mind showing the world your 'superpower?'"

Twilight said nothing, preferring not to waste words.  Her horn glowed, and, with a flash, a 4' x 4' blue star chart appeared on his lap.

"Thanks, Twilight." Marlon turned to the camera.  "That's right, people, you saw that correctly.  A star chart appeared out of thin air on my lap.  You can tell these things aren't hostile, because if they were, with that kind of power, we'd all be dead by now."

Marlon had taken an astronomy class in 11th grade, so he knew the basics of a star chart.

With the center of the universe being extradimensional,  the universe looks the same from all perspectives.

He pored over the chart for a few seconds and found the Milky Way.

"OK, that's where we are," he said, pointing at the small Milky Way shape.  "Where are you, again?"

"Right here," Twilight said, indicating another galaxy shape with her hoof.

Andromeda!

Marlon was stunned.  The creatures closely resembled horses and closely related to humans on a planet closely related to Earth in a galaxy close to the Milky Way.  Mankind had seen past its driveway of the interstellar neighborhood, turned its head to the left to see the next house, and said "Hi!"

Better write that one down.  Could work in a speech.

"Well, folks, here's a shocker:  the ponies come from Andromeda!  They're practically next-door neighbors!"

"That's an odd name for a galaxy," Twilight said.

"We call ours the Milky Way-doesn't get much weirder than that.  It's amazing how deep your astronomical knowledge is."  The chart was as complete as one from Earth, with added galaxies and stars Marlon had never seen before.  He marveled at the stranger of the previously unknown dots:  The spirals of Sholma, Klordyus, and Neverfree; the stars Lunus, Philomena, Snowflake, Colgate, and Sweetie; and the planets Emptium, Smoothik, Splinz, Faxin, Zzilchyk, and Ook.

"Starswirl the Bearded was a big fan of astronomy.  He made the original version of this map eons ago, and it wouldn't have been possible without his magical telescope.  Interesting fact:  Starswirl decided to name that planet "Ook" because he had just hit his head on a bookcase and said 'Ook.'  I guess he was having trouble thinking of another name."

Twilight's horn glowed again, causing the chart to disappear.

"Well, here's a question for you, Twilight, since you seem to know a lot about... things...:  How does your time system compare to ours?"

"I'm don't know much about time comparisons, but I have a book on them that I haven't read much of yet."

Twilight elaborated as her horn glowed, making a large book appear on Marlon's lap.

"Starswirl the Bearded used magic and a complex series of formulae to determine year values through a few galaxies.  I think yours is in here somewhere."

Marlon flipped the leather-bound book open to the table of contents, noting the freakishly similar texture of the paper to Earth's.

"He called yours the 'Bisc,' which is short for 'barred disc.'  Admittedly, he didn't come up with the most creative names for things.  However, some of the planets on the star chart are named interestingly."

After looking at the page numbers, Twilight magically flipped the pages like lightning, landing on the precise page-1202.

Small table charts labeled with different solar systems riddled the page, but Earth's system was not difficult to find; the planets were labeled:  brown, yellow, blue (w/clouds?), red, orange, beige, blue, blue.

Guess that's ours.

The line read: 1 Equestrian year = 1 Blue (w/clouds) year:  very odd.  Never seen exact value before.

Good God.  More evidence of Equestria being another Earth!

"Well, then," Marlon said as the book vanished.  "If that's the case, how old are you and your friends?"

"We're all 20, but Fluttershy's 21."

"How long do you ponies normally live?"

"Depends.  Celestia's been around for 69,000, and she's immortal...."

Twilight leaned in closely to Marlon and whispered, "I'm not really sure about that, but she never tells me how long alicorns live.  I guess she doesn't want me to get too scared about her dying."

"Is an alicorn a cross between a pegasus and a unicorn?"

"Yes-how did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Fortunately, the microphone on Marlon's shirt picked up the conversation, so the world could be more educated.

Twilight backed away slightly and resumed her side of the conversation.

...but I'd say we normally live to be about 400."

"Any idea what makes you live so long?"

"We age very slowly due to our cell manufacturing rate and balance of hormones.  It's also in our genes; we have 983 of them, and a substantial amount deal with long-term health retention.  I read about it in one of my books."

"You keep saying 'your' books.  Are you teleporting them from somewhere?"

"You already asked me this during the break."

"Yes, but the people of Earth probably want to know how you do that as well.  They might find it interesting."

Twilight fearlessly faced the camera.

"Well, I teleport them from my room on the ship.  I have a minor ability to convert matter, such as turning plain air into metal, but I haven't memorized the entire book, making it easier just to teleport it.  Otherwise I'd have to perform a text extraction spell on top of the matter-changing spell, and that takes a lot of energy.  Celestia can do that stuff without a problem, though."

"Ah, interesting.  Well, Twilight, due to the program's time slot, it'll be hard to cram in a full interview with you today, but you've definitely given the world a great perspective of alien intelligence.  Before I move on to your friends, are there any parting words you'd like to say to the human race?"

Twilight stared at the American camera and switched her focus to the others as she talked.

"Hello, humans!  I look forward to a future of cooperation and understanding!  I hope to work alongside you in your pursuits of knowledge!"

Twilight walked back to her spot (backwards, of course).

"There you have it, folks:  Twilight Sparkle.  I assume Celestia's had her fair share of questions for today, so let's move on to the rest of the crew here.  I actually conducted a preliminary interview with them earlier, so this should be easy."

Marlon stared at the menagerie, trying to decide on the next interviewee.

Rainbow Dash stepped forward and shook Marlon's hand, then turned to the camera.  She was obviously eager to prove her bravery on TV.

"Hi, humans.  I'm Rainbow Dash, but you can call me Rainbow, Dash, RD, Dashie, whichever you prefer.

So, this Marlon guy over here's tellin' me that you humans have some sort of plane that flies faster than sound.  Is. This. True?"

Dashie enunciated the conversation with her hoof, in an attempt to appear more appealing to the audience.  After she finished her last line, she stared at the lens for a few seconds in silence.

"Uh, Dashie?" said Marlon quietly.

"Yeah?  What's wrong?"

"Are you waiting for something?"

"How am I supposed to hear their feedback?"

"The camera can't talk back.  People are watching from the other side, but they can't talk through it."

"I thought they were just being quiet out of awe for Celestia."

"One would tend to think so...."

Note to self:  add canned laughter.

"Well, I'll just take Marlon's word for it," she said, focusing back on the camera.

"I'm gonna keep this short and sweet so that my friends can do their long, drawn-out interviews, but if you humans have any hardcore sporting events that involve moving really, really fast, don't hesitate to let me know."

Dashie returned to her space.

"Well....  Thank you for that self-interview, Dashie.  To answer your question:  yes, we do have sports that involve going really fast, such as, oh, I dunno... running."

"Is that all?"

"Well, no.  We've got car racing, horse racing, boat racing, football, and... aw, heck-just about all sports except for bowling involve going really fast."

"Sounds cool-just remember who to call if you need an extra teammate."

"Indeed," Marlon said, amazed at how little Dashie had to say.

She oughta be a natural at horse racing.

"Anything else you want to talk about besides sports?"

"Hmmm...," she said, raising a hoof to her chin.

"Nah.  Just wanted to get that out of the way."

"Nothing else about yourself?  Your family?  Your other interests?"

"I like to take naps, but that's not as important.  Next, please."

A few seconds of appropriate silence ensued.

"Alrighty then.  Who's next?"

"OOH!  PICK ME!  PICK ME!" said Pinkie, raising a front hoof high.

"Alright, folks, this is Pinkie Pie.  She's incredibly hyper and loves to do... hyper... things.  Pinkie, what are some of your favorite things to do?" Marlon said as she shook his hand violently.

"Well, I loooove cupcakes, as you know!  Parties are what I really consider myself best at, though.  I love to see ponies have a good time and know that I brightened up their day!  Have another cupcake!"

She extracted another cupcake, exactly like the last, from her poofy hair and shoved it into his mouth.

Once Marlon swallowed the cupcake, he faced the camera.

"Believe it or not, these things taste exactly like the cupcakes from supermarkets.  They're also made with freakishly familiar ingredients; you'd think she'd stolen 'em."

"Oh, no.  I wouldn't steal anything.  Besides, where's the fun in making cupcakes if you steal 'em?"

"You have a point.  Then again, I'm a terrible cook; I even have a hard time making cake from a mix.

She really likes cupcakes," whispered Marlon to the audience, while pointing his thumb at Pinkie.

Pinkie's pupils began to widen with her smile as she leaned close to Marlon.

"You don't know how to cook?" she whispered, smiling freakishly the whole time.

"No, I was never really taught, you see."

Pinkie withdrew from his face, then walked towards the camera and put a hoof up to her face to cover her mouth from Marlon.

"Your leader doesn't know how to cook!" she whispered intently.  Some cameramen carefully chuckled, not wanting to release their murdered bowels yet.

She moved back to Marlon and spoke audibly again.

"THIS MUST BE REMEDIED!"

"How are you going to do that?  Just zap a spell on me to get me to cook better?"

"Of course not, silly!  Where's the fun in that?  I'll teach you!  HUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

Pinkie expelled a massive, drawn out gasp, as if she had just discovered a cure for cancer.  She grabbed Marlon's shoulders with her two front hooves and emitted another deluge:  "Ijusthadthebestideaeveryouknowwhaticouldteachyouhowtocookonabroadcastjustlikeyouredoingnowofcourseitwontbeaboutussolelybutinsteadit'llbeacookingshowicanteachyouhowtocookandtheworldcanfollowalongthenicanteacheverybodywhaddyasay?"

"Um... I guess I can arrange something."

"I'LLTAKETHATASAYES!!!  MMMWWWWAAAHHH!!!"

She smooched him again, with slightly more force this time.  As she walked back to her spot, Marlon wiped the sweet saliva off his lips with a tissue given by the cameraman at Marlon's silent request.

"Told you she's hyper.

Alright, who's next?"

No motion.  None of the three remaining ponies volunteered themselves for a good five seconds.

"Oh, OK.  I guess someone has to step up sometime."

"This is Rarity, and she apparently is a big fan of fashion, even though the ponies don't wear clothes."

"Well, we do sometimes for big events such as the Grand Galloping Gala, and it's very important to have the highest-quality clothes ready."

"I don't know what the Grand Galloping Gala is, but I agree with your point.

What sort of clothes did you ponies wear on your homeworld?"

"Well, I mainly design dresses; they cover most of our bodies and are elaborately colored."

"Interesting-kind of like the dresses that exist on Earth.  Can you do that teleporty-thing like Twilight did and give me an example?"

"Well, unfortunately, my previous work was destroyed with our planet, but I can show you blueprints."

Rarity's horn glowed a welcoming blue, and poofed into existence a large blueprint, detailing all the specifications of an elaborate dress.

"Do you perchance have any tools for delicately pointing at things?"

"Actually yes," Marlon said as he pulled a green laser pointer from his pocket (for just such an occasion).

"You'll have to do a bit of tricky magic work for this one, but if you can push the button and levitate it at the same time, you can point at stuff."

"O...Kay?" Rarity said, unsure of exactly what a laser was.  She effortlessly lifted it up and pointed to the minute details....

"Oh, my!  This light is beautiful!" said Rarity, now more captivated by the laser than the blueprint.  "However do you humans produce such a brilliant green?"

"Well, that's called a 'laser,'" Marlon said, imitating Mike Myers's Dr. Evil character with hooked fingers on the last word.  "The green light is due to a relatively high electromagnetic wavelength of... well, it's a complicated process."

Marlon had once known the specifics of how a laser worked, but had long since forgotten  The introduction had made him sound intelligent, though.

"Well, I adore the color.  Could I borrow some of these to use on future dresses?"

"Well, this is my only one, and they can be expensive, depending on the color-I think blue's usually the most expensive.  In addition, they'll probably look tacky just sticking out of a dress."

"Trust me, I'll find a way to make them work.  Maybe Twilight can invent some new kind of laser that doesn't stick out, if it's a problem."

"Well, just remember not to get too carried away with it.  Lasers can be dangerous with enough power output-don't want your dress setting itself on fire, do you?"

Rarity shuddered at the thought.

"I'll take your word for it.

Anyway, where were we-oh, yes-the dresses.

As you can see here, the thread thickness must be carefully calibrated around the neck and plot areas so as not to cause chafing.  When I put this one together, I used multiple layers of fibers and created a ripple effect along the middle body, as shown here in a quasi-corset effect.  The hoof-guards are made of polished stone for an elegant, yet rugged feel, and must be perfectly aligned with the wearer's foot to prevent cuts.  Lastly, the top layer is encrusted with multiple gems of varying colors, while managing to remain pliable enough to drape around the lower layers.  When the wearer walks into a room, light reflects off of them in a way such that no part of the room is left dark.  I call it... The Illuminator.  Any questions?"

Marlon was indeed amazed at how much the white creature knew of dress making.  It seemed that every pony adhered to one talent above all else, which corresponded to the pictures on their rears.

"How long does it take you to make a dress, on average?"

"About an hour-they're not that complicated, really.  The complexity is a trick of the eyes."

"I'll have to see that to believe it; I don't know of anybody who can make a dress in an hour.  I don't even know anyone who can make a dress, period!"

"I'll have to reuse Pinkie's suggestion-why don't you host a show telling how I make the dresses, then you'll see!"

"I can probably arrange something."

"Oh, and just one more thing before I go...," said Rarity, poofing the blueprint away.

Marlon felt his hair being pulled up and fluffed about by an invisible force, then pushed down neatly again.  A rectangular, frameless mirror appeared and levitated in front of Marlon's face.  His hair was perfectly arranged, with not a single one sticking up.

"Your hair was beginning to look a little wet with-do you humans sweat?"

"Yes,"

"-with sweat.  I thought it could use a little touching up."

The mirror disappeared and Marlon focused intently on the air, trying to figure out if he had been secretly brainwashed.  He only thought to do this because of the angry comments, which made him slightly nervous about alien brain interference.

"Don't worry-I'm good, people," said Marlon to the camera with a thumbs-up.  "The bad news is that it's time for another commercial break.  Don't worry, we'll be back to finish up soon."

Marlon and the cameramen excused themselves to go to the bathroom.  Guards were still positioned in the hall out of view, in case of screwy business, due to Marlon's secret cautiousness.

"Hey, Princess, why d'ya think he's bein' so nice ta' us?" asked AppleJack.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?  Luna and I sent down a hypnosis blast while we were hovering above their stick-statue.  We had to in order to quiet potential "racism."  The explorers that came here before never knew how to perform mass-hypnosis."

"Do ya think all the humans woulda hated us if ya hadn't?"

"I doubt that.  The explorers' first encounter was a peaceful one.  Then again, there were hostile humans back then.  The problem is:  the humans' weaponry has evolved, and those machines surrounding the statue may have easily killed us.  They burned through the ship's pure Equestrium walls-there's no telling how quickly we would have been annihilated."

"Do ya think it worked on everypo... everyone (I heard the humans say 'everyone.')?"

"I don't know; I've never tried to hypnotize a whole planet before.  I had no reason to test in on the Equestrian people-it never seemed incredibly necessary.  After all, Luna's the only one who usually deals with other minds."

"How 'bout Marlon?  Ya think he would have needed it in th' first place?"

"I certainly hope not.  If he's the humans' leader, the possibility of the spell wearing off on him could be catastrophic for us."

"I kind of like it here; the inhabitants seem to have the potential for friendliness."

"The key word being 'potential,'" Celestia said with a sad tone.

After a solid three minutes of silence, Marlon and the cameramen returned, looking relieved beyond belief.

"Do NOT go in there!" Marlon said with a tired laugh.

"Why would we want to?" said Dashie.

Marlon stopped.  "It was a joke; i'm not actually prohibiting anyone from going to the bathroom."

"Well, why would we anyway?"

"Because you... I'll talk about it later-not much time before air.  Fortunately, the second commercial's always longer."

The cameramen readied themselves for the final third of the week's episode.

Five... four... three... two... one.

"OK, folks, here we are again with the aliens from outer space.  For those of you who've just joined us, I'm interviewing these to show the world what they're really like.  Up next, we have AppleJack, and yes, that is her real name.  Apparently hard cider existed on their planet, too."

Better save Fluttershy for the second-to-last.  Spike can be the final one.

"AppleJack, what do you think of Earth so far?"

"Well, I reckon I'm likin' the grass 'n' trees-reminds me o' Sweet Apple Acres.  That's the farm I lived on."

"Since you're the farmer, tell me:  what do you ponies usually eat?"

"We normally eat vegetables 'n' other plants, like hay, flowers, bread (it's made o' plants), and, ma personal favorite, apples."

"What do you eat when conditions aren't normal?"

"Cakes, pies, salads... ya know-fancy stuff."

"Do you eat meat at all?"

"Ya know, I don't reckon I've ever had it.  Have y'all?" she asked the group behind her, receiving a negative head-shaking response.

"Nope, we don't eat meat.  We're herbivores, ya know?"

"Well, you'll be happy to know that all of those things exist on Earth, too-you'll love our food.  Before you try it, though, you've gotta let us know if anything's toxic to you."

"Ain't nothin' ma stomach can't handle-at least I don't think."

"Well, it's good to double-check.  Maybe Twilight can show you a book of what's toxic to you, eh?"

"Don't worry-I have four books on pony anatomy-it should be a snap," piped in Twilight.

"I'm guessing you farm apples on your home planet, judging by your name.  Do you just sell them whole or make stuff with them?"

"Well, our specialty's apple cider, but apple fritters, pies, dumplin's, cobblers, tarts, sauces, cakes, strudels, crumbles, and such are also on the list."

Any shrimp recipes there, Bubba?

"Does your cider have alcohol in it, just out of curiosity?"

"Wha'd'ya mean?"

"Does it do any of the following:  foam, freeze, inebriate, or taste strongly?"

"Yes, no, yes, and yes.  Why d'ya ask?"

"I said 'out of curiosity,' but I'll elaborate:  on Earth, we have something referred to as 'hard cider,' that has the aforementioned characteristics.  Sometimes we call it... 'applejack.'"

"Why d'ya call it that?"

"Well, it's like apple cider that's been jacked up with alcohol, ya see?"

"Alca-wuh?"

"Alcohol's a chemical in beer, wine, scotch, vodka, rum, whiskey, rye..."

Singin' 'this'll be the day that I die...'

Marlon occasionally imagined song lyrics in his head to make conversations more interesting.

"...and other liquors of the sort.  It does all that stuff I just mentioned."

"So that's how my parents got my name...," she said to herself thoughtfully.  "Musta been one o' those one-in-a-billion coincidences that we got the same word for it.  Musta been another'un that we both got apples on our planets."

"Indeed.  In fact, I'm a big fan of apples, you know-love me some apple pie."

"Ooh!  Maybe I can make one fer ya'."

"Maybe.  Just be sure that your recipe isn't toxic to humans."

"I can compare it against one'a yers if ya'd like."

"OK, then.  Quick question:  where'd you get that hat?"

"This?  I've had the thing since i was a li'l'un.  I just wear it 'cus it protects ma head from the sun-gets all burned,ya know."

She lifted off her hat, revealing a head of smooth, blond hair, slightly lighter than Marlon's, then replaced it.

"B'sides, it's nice'n comfy."

"Here's another one-in-a-billion coincidence for you:  we have hats like that on Earth, too."

"What is it with all these coincidences?  Next you'll be tellin' me ya got farms that look like ours, too!"

"What do your farms look like?"

AppleJack removed her hat again, pulling a small picture from its depths.

"I keep this picture in here so I can remember my home when I'm away."

She handed the picture to Marlon, who was amazed at what he held.

It was a sepia photograph of a large barn with nearby apple-bearing trees and wide fields.  The photo was on what appeared to be a Polaroid sheet.

"How did you make this picture?"

"With my family's old camera, or as ma granny likes t'call it, 'picture box.'"

Marlon stared wide-eyed at the photo, perplexed that the aliens had mastered space travel, but not color photography.

"Are all your pictures in sepia?"

"Naw.  Just a few decades ago we learned how to make 'em in color.  I just use ol' technology 'cus it's a family tradition."

That old time technol'gy is good enough for me....

"Well, your photo technology is pretty similar to ours, too-there's another coincidence," said Marlon, handing back the photo.  "I think you'll like it here juuuust fine.  Is there anything else about you I should know?"

"I reckon that's it.  Thanks fer teachin' me somethin' today; seems like Earth's got all the comforts a'home.  Good to meet somepo-one who appreciates apples."

She shook Marlon's hand and walked back.

"Our last pony guest is Fluttershy, and she's a real sweetie.  Just don't give her a hard time, OK?  Her name had the word 'shy' in it, after all."

Fluttershy stared at Marlon nervously as he calmly motioned for her to approach.  She walked slowly, and her expression made her fear known to the world.

"So, Fluttershy, what's your story?  Why did your parents give you a name with the word 'shy'in it?"

"Um... my parents told me I was always frightened of everything since the day I was born-that's when they named me."

She spoke in a mumble that would have been completely inaudible had it not been for Marlon's shirt-mic, which had had its gain increased for just such an occasion.  She tried to avoid eye contact, brushing a front hoof lightly against the ground.

"Um...."

As Fluttershy saw the cameras in their switched-on glory, she remembered that the planet was now viewing her and that the cameras were not, in fact, her friends.  With a small squeak, she commenced weeping like a woman possibly in her twenties.  Tears streamed down her face, some hitting the floor, but Marlon didn't care about the damp carpeting.  He only wanted to comfort the creature.

Please fix my mom's brain!

"Aw, there, there.  Nobody's gonna hurt ya," he said as he pulled her close to his chest in an embrace of her neck and head.  She held herself there, drenching Marlon's shirt, occasionally interrupting the sobs with squeaks; it was ironically the most adorable thing Marlon had ever seen.

He gently rubbed her hair and neck in a circular motion, as his mother did when he was young to calm him down.  Fortunately, his mind was too occupied with Fluttershy to actively remember his mother; otherwise, he would never have thought of the therapeutic motion.

"It's OK; let it out," he said sympathetically.  She took his advice and increased her volume slightly; Marlon knew that this would run her dry more quickly, and would ironically increase her subconscious comfort with his presence.  She then wrapped her front legs around his chest to press herself against him, literally crying on his shoulder, her head next to his.  He continued the circling motion while occasionally softly uttering things such as:  "Aww... there there," "It's OK-everything's OK," and "Ssshhhh. Don't worry-nobody's gonna hurt ya."

The fact that the other aliens were not attempting to console Fluttershy was slightly odd to Marlon, but he figured that they knew he had the situation under control.  He held up an index finger to the camera to indicate that he would need a minute.

Indeed; the waterworks continued for at least five minutes, but Marlon cut to commercial after the first two.

"Uh, folks, we're having some technical difficulties here.  Watch some commercials until we get this sorted out, OK?"

Some crew members had been using their phones to record the whole ordeal.  Marlon could imagine the YouTube videos:  "Fluttershy cries while I play unfitting music" and "Fluttershy cries for ten hours straight," with a continued loop of the footage.

"Does she always do this?" Marlon whispered to Celestia, hoping the crying would keep the yellow alien out of earshot.

ONLY IN FRONT OF LARGE CROWDS

Celestia said nothing, but Marlon heard her voice clearly as if it emanated from his inner ears.

Marlon continued circling, but was now more focused on Celestia than Fluttershy.

"D-did you say anything?" he whispered under his breath.

NOT AUDIBLY.  I HAVE THE POWER OF TELEPATHY, BUT YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO LET THIS ON TO YOUR HUMAN FRIENDS-THEY MIGHT THINK I'M CONTROLLING YOUR MIND.

As if the magic hair restyling wasn't enough....

WELL, THAT WASN'T INFLUENCING THE INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD-ONLY THE OUTSIDE.

"Can you read my thoughts, too?" he "said" by barely moving his lips, hoping she could read them.

YES, AND YOUR MIND IS VERY ACTIVE, COMPARED TO SOME OF THE OTHERS I'VE HEARD.

Marlon squinted at Celestia to be sure he wasn't just imagining things.  He decided to think of obscure questions in order to test the telepathy powers.

How does your mane move without wind?

IT'S AN INHERITED GENE FROM MY MOTHER.  MY SISTER AND I ARE THE ONLY ONES I KNOW OF WITH THIS CONDITION.

What is your favorite color?

INFARED-I AM THE ONLY EQUESTRIAN WHO CAN SEE IT.

Marlon thought of the ultimate question-something he could never guess in a million years....

How do you aliens reproduce?

SEXUALLY

You have no genitalia.

OUR GENITALS AND EXCRETORY SPHINCTERS ARE ACTUALLY STORED INSIDE OF A FORM-FITTING SKIN PIECE TO PREVENT ACCIDENTAL PENETRATION BY SITTING ON ROUGH SURFACES.  BOTH APPEAR WHEN A PONY EITHER MUST DEFECATE, URINATE, OR IS SEXUALLY AROUSED-THE SKIN IS FOLDED DOWN AND AROUND THE UNDERBELLY BETWEEN THE LEGS BY A SIMPLE MUSCLE MOVEMENT, AND BLENDS IN WITH THE REST OF THE PONY'S SKIN AS IF IT WERE NEVER THERE.  FROM THERE, A MALE'S PE-

OK, OK, I think I get it-maybe we should talk about this some other time, ya know-in case I accidentally make weird facial expressions at the thought of... ya know... alien sex.  Then the cameramen may know something's going on.

I UNDERSTAND.

Why are you just telling me you can do this now?  Why didn't you bring it up earlier?

YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANY CONVERSATIONS THAT NEEDED TO BE HIDDEN FOR FEAR OF DISTURBING OTHERS THEN.  IT'S NOT WISE TO DISTURB FLUTTERSHY WHEN SHE'S CRYING; SHE'LL FEEL MORE EMBARRASSED AND KEEP GOING.

What's her record here?

14.3 MINUTES.

"Hey, Fluttershy, could you maybe try to calm down a little?  I just wanna talk to you, OK?" Marlon said quietly to the yellow pony.

Fortunately, she was easing up; her sobs were accompanied by less and less water.  She finally reduced to sniffling with occasional squeaks, then hugged him harder.

"I-I'm s-sorry.  I get n-nervous around crowds."

"It's OK-I understand.  Are you still too scared to do the interview?"

"Please don't make me do it again," she whispered.  "Can you just tell them what I told you about me earlier, if that's OK?"

"Sure-I'll do that.

Can we take it off commercial?"

The cameraman began to count down from ten with his fingers.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Marlon said as he hugged her back hard.

When Marlon finally looked up, the red "on air" light was shining on the camera.

"You might wanna go back, OK?" said Marlon, not letting on that the camera was functional again.

As she moved back, Marlon explained the situation to the camera.

"Sorry 'bout that folks-I needed to calm Fluttershy down a little-she gets nervous in front of cameras.  I'll just tell you what she said to me in the preliminary interview:  she loves animals (not to eat), and... that's about it.  I'm not sure how many animals they had on their home planet that don't exist here, but hopefully she can make do with what we have here.  What would you expect from somebody like that, eh?"

"OK folks-we have one last interviewee.  See that purple thing on the side of the couch?  Well, your eyes haven't deceived you, good people-he's a dragon.  Seriously-first unicorns, then pegasi, then dragons!  This is not what I had in mind when I woke up this morning!

How do you do, li'l guy?" said Marlon to the apparently sleeping dragon.

"Whuh?  Is that my cue?" the beast said, yawning.  "Oh!  OK!" he stood up and shook Marlon's hand with his sharp, clawed hand.

"This is the aptly named Spike and....  I'm sorry, what the heck are you doing here?  What do you have in common with the rest of the ponies?"

"I'm Twilight's personal assistant.  I keep tabs on her house while she's away, help her organize schedules, and send and receive messages from the princess."

"Receive?  Can't Twilight just check her mailbox?"

"Usually, messages need to be sent quickly, so I have to use my only known magic power for it."

"What about that translation stuff?"

"Actually yeah, I can do that one, but I wasn't born with it.  Twilight did some weird DNA modification on me when I was little, and now I hear you and you hear me.  Pretty cool, huh?"

"How does the first magic power work, exactly?"

"If you have a piece of paper and a pen, I'll show you."

Marlon went to his desk and retrieved a piece of paper and his pen.  When he returned, Spike wrote "Hello," with remarkable penmanship.  He walked as far from Celestia as the cameras would allow, then began.

"I'm gonna stand over here so you can see the process better."  He rolled up the paper, held it in front of his face, and blew green fire at it, causing it to convert into green smoke.  The smoke traveled across the room through the air, and the paper appeared, unraveled, and floated in front of Celestia.

"It says, 'hello," she said.  She pulled the pen away from Spike's hand with a glow of her horn, and began to write a reply by levitating the pen.  The paper disappeared  as Celestia put the pen back on Marlon's desk.  Spike let out a large belch, expelling the rolled-up paper cleanly from his throat, unraveled it, and read:  "hello again."

"That's amazing!" said Marlon.  How does that work?"

"I convert the paper to a gaseous state with my fire-breath, which is automatically transferred to Celestia with a DNA lock.  Then, she just teleports her reply to my belly."

"I need to introduce them to e-mail," said Marlon to the camera.  "Were you the only dragon on Equestria?"

"No-just the only one that lived in Ponyville.  The rest of them lived in their own nomadic societies."

"Spike's still a baby dragon, and they age much more slowly than ponies-each hundred years for them is one year to us, but the process can be accelerated by greed; he's currently 13 years old."

"Greed?  Why?"

"It's a complicated psychosomatic process, but as a dragon gives himself in to greedy habits, his cells multiply exponentially more rapidly than they would otherwise.  Once, Spike started stealing things from every pony in our town-grew to a monstrous height, too.  He eventually was brought back down to size by-"

"Aw, will you cut it out?  You bring that story up every time we have company!  Not something I'm proud of, either!"

"Sorry, Spike.

He just doesn't want me to tell you how he changed back to his original size," Twilight whispered to Marlon, lifting her hoof so Spike presumably would not be able to see her mouth."

"Is it something embarrassing?" Marlon whispered back.

"Seriously?  I'm not deaf; I can hear every word you're saying!" Spike interjected.

"I'll tell you later," whispered Twilight back to Marlon.

"Back to the original subject:  why is it that aliens always live longer than humans?  It's like that in most alien stories I know.  Seriously, you guys are starting to make me feel inferior."

"Well, you're almost twice my height-seems pretty superior to me," said Spike.

"But I don't breathe fire or do magic, or fly, or-hey, wait a minute!  I forgot to show how you pegasi fly!" he suddenly said to Dashie.

"Bad idea, Rich.  Generates a lotta wind, ya know?  It'd blast your papers around pretty good."

A second of silence...

"Never mind, then."

"I'm just tryin' to look out for ya," she said.

"Thanks, Dashie.

So!  How did you become Twilight's assistant?"

"Long story, but I'll give you the short version:  Twilight hatched me from an egg during her school's magic entrance exam.  She decided to keep me.  End of story."

"That's a weird entrance exam...."

If somebody told me to magically hatch a chicken egg, I'd smash it and say, "It was gonna be food either way.  I just chose the more humane option!

"...time acceleration?"

"It's a rough one, I know, but I had studied it since I was able to read.  Actually, the only way I was able to pull it off was the blast of energy from the sonic rainboom Dash created, which is an immense blast of energy released when she reaches a certain flight speed and breaks the barrier of sound, creating a brilliant rainbow effect."

"What the...?  You never told me you could do that," said Marlon to Dashie.

"I didn't think it was really important for you to know-it's a pretty hard move to pull off, too."

"Now I'm interested.  Is your sound barrier the same as ours?"

"Ours is about seven-hundred something miles an hour, but your air pressure feels pretty similar."

"How do you know what a mile is?"

"Translation spell also converts measurements to your units."

"Amazing...  In fact, our units are-"

A rock remix of "Hail to the Chief" played from background speakers, the clean guitar performing a beautiful melody.

"Well, folks," said Marlon to the camera.  "The commercial time messed us up a little, and the music means we're out of time for today.  Sorry we couldn't get Luna on here, but we probably wouldn't have had much time with her anyway.  Thank you for joining me for this special episode of "D.C. Unveiled," where I made contact with aliens and lived to tell the tale!  Until next week, this is Richard Marlon, Celestia, AppleJack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Twilight Sparkle, and Spike wishing you people of Earth a good night!"

Marlon motioned to all the aliens at once with a sideways arm as he said this, then waved the camera goodbye.  The credits rolled as the cameraman clenched his fist to signal that the show was over.

"Alright you guys, that was great!  I think we really made an impression today!"

As Marlon stood up, he realized that his back was still drenched with Fluttershy's tears.

"I'm sorry," Fluttershy said quietly.

"Aw, c'mon.  It's OK.  I completely understand-look, it's my fault for putting you on there with such short notice.  I probably should have recorded an interview with you so that you wouldn't have to go straight on TV.  I'm the sorry one here," he said as they embraced in consolation.

"Now!  I need to square away some sleeping arrangements for you-you'll need good rest after that long trip!"

Marlon shook the American cameraman's hand as he walked into the hall.

"I like this guy!" piped in Pinkie.

Part I: The Landing (Chapter IV)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter IV)

Hey you, don't let them get to you

Take these candles where we'll meet

(Which street?)

Down on Santa Maria Street

[The] Sand Rubies, Santa Maria Street

That night, as Marlon stared up at the ceiling from his bed, he pondered all that had happened in the course of the day and thought of more that he could have asked on TV.  What was chunk gas?  Was Celestia born a princess?  Does Twilight have pictures of Discord?  Why aren't there more male ponies?  What will the plan be for taking them into society-how do you assimilate an alien?  Thoughts nagged at him like a mosquito's buzzing, as they often did this late at night.  In fact, they were keeping him from sleep.  He rolled around on his bed, trying to find the right dozing-off position, but his eyes would not fall heavy.

He turned on the light on his end-table and picked up his journal.  The writing down of his thoughts always tended to clear them from his head.

May 15, 2009

I know I've written about this multiple times before, but the question persists:  am I doing the right thing, or just making an ass of myself?  Today, I just defied every movie and book I've read about aliens-I decided not to shoot first.  Hell, Melski probably would have if I hadn't been his friend to advise him.  I mean, who knows?  If the aliens had been shot within the first few seconds of contact, I wouldn't have this weight on my shoulders; that is to say, the responsibility of integrating a new race into our own society.  Who cares if they're hostile or not?  We don't have to combat racism... or... build shelters... or... give them food or anything!  Will this make the world laugh at me?  The plan worked, right?  I know the whole "they're planning something evil" argument, but the vibes coming off of these things are genuinely kind.  It's not like in Evolution!  These things can communicate; they're reasonable!  Plus, if they were planning something evil, couldn't they have done it already?  Nothing wrong with carrying out your evil plan guns-a-blazin', if you ask me.  They don't eat meat, they've formed a society; they've even been here before with no problems except for racism towards them.  Wonder how much the history books left out on that one.  Even though the memory was wiped, somebody must have written it down!

I'm starting to think (again) that many people don't want me as their president because I'm not boring enough.  It's a paranoid thought, and there's not much of a reason to have it since I actually got re-elected, but it's been creeping in ever since my second term started.  But why?  Maybe it's the memories that are doing the job.  Memories of my newscaster days.  Memories of being fired for being "not boring enough."  Memories of "Stupid piss monkey" being spraypainted on my driveway by one of my own guards.  Firing him felt pretty good, though.

Maybe I need to have some more sex to keep me stable; my mind lends itself to stress far too easily; it's the only thing that really distracts me and eases the tension.  Not that distraction really matters now-there aren't any wars going on for the time being.  Need to go to a bar sometime....  Lucky I'm single, unlike Kennedy-I think that was why the public always thought ill of him-cheating on his wife-inexcusable.

Why do these things shit chocolate?  Really fucking weird-then again, everyone expects cute and cuddly things to shit rainbows, so this suddenly isn't so far-fetched.

Marlon looked at his ramblings and suddenly felt slightly better.  He didn't have to write every thought down, just the ones that plagued him most.  He felt more tired now, but that could possibly be due to the writer's cramp-horrible stuff.

Then it came to him.  The plan.  Out of nowhere, as well.  He began to write it down with his blue pen (which he could have sworn was white a second ago) underneath his ramblings-word by beautiful word.  It was foolproof.  The budget was in great shape, and could most likely afford a project like this.

Hope we don't have to cut anything to compensate.

He looked at the plan with pride-so simple it only took up the equivalent of a page.  His speech would be a piece of cake now, since it had come in the most natural way-from nowhere.  It would knock the cabinet boys dead in the meeting they had scheduled for tomorrow many days before.  Marlon considered the pitiful lie about the members' disappearances having nothing to do with sneaking out to see the aliens.  He eventually decided to let them have their fun; he could handle one day without them.

As he turned out the light, he reflected on what had just taken place.

All the ponies (including the eight creatures from the interview) had had their (hooves?) washed off with garden hoses outside by the guards; residue of the brown material was taken to a lab and analyzed.  Guards were ordered to keep the crowds even farther away to diminish noise while the ponies slept on the lawn.  Marlon was to give a speech to the aliens in the morning.

When Marlon opened his closet, Luna was no longer there, but a small piece of paper was on the floor.  The room smelled like summer night air.

Dear Richard, it read.

If you are reading this, then I formally apologize for not being available for the interview.  I am habitually nocturnal, and in addition, I would prefer to watch over my subjects tonight.  So, promptly at sundown, I teleported myself outside.  If you do not believe me, you can look out your window.  I hope the interview went well and look forward to speaking with you soon.

-Luna

   For a brief moment, Marlon was curious as to how she knew when sundown was, but he remembered that she must have used her magic powers to look through the walls and beyond the ship.

Hope she doesn't do that when I'm taking a shit.

Luna's letter was true; Marlon could see her dark form on the lawn rising above the other ponies'.  Her mysteriously wavy hair reflected light from some distant streetlamp, mimicking the effect of moonlight on a dark lake.

"Good God, that's creepy," Marlon whispered upon seeing this.

Since Luna slept during the day and would most likely want to stay with her own species at night, Marlon had no idea when she would be available to talk to.

Oh well....  Maybe I can ask Celestia when Luna 'takes off.'

Marlon fell asleep, his last conscious thought being, "Maybe the bad's all in my head."

*flip*

1:32 (ante meridian), and Marlon was still in the building.  Everyone else had gone home, and the main cubicle room was empty.  There was a janitor about five floors down, but Marlon knew that this could easily be a myth; he had only heard word of the janitor from a passing coworker hours ago.  Either way, he was alone, his only companions being the computer server boxes at his "8", their green lights flitting about above their countless blue, yellow, and white wires, and his faithful Micron computer in front of him, its imploding spiky sphere slowly floating across the black CRT.  A worn, off-white fluorescent bulb was shining on his off-white desk, brilliantly illuminating the off-white metal beams that supported his metal desk-hutch; and the off-white walls, bringing an oasis of off-white light to the windowless, shadowy side-office.  The only two things that were not of this brilliant shade were the worn, grey metal cage encasing the fluorescent fixture, the grey carpet with a quasi-corduroy pattern, and the wood-grain flip-clock on his desk, displaying the time.  Marlon was having a difficult time distinguishing between whether this was a dream or reality-everything was rather clear.

He heard a stereotypical office phone ring, and noticed the now-conveniently-placed phone on his desk.  He picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"If a banana walks into a daycare center and assassinates the machinery, what would you do?" said a woman's voice.

"They don't make that machinery anymore do they?"

"Only when they tell them to."

"What, are you trying to go easy on me? The answer's obvious:  tie the red plastic necklace to the yellow garland, but be sure you're in aisle 3."

"Correct."

"AND DON'T YOU FUCKING FORGET IT!!" he screamed into the receiver as he slammed it down on his crotch.  The receiver conveniently disappeared.

"Stupid bitch!" he said to himself.  "That'll teach her."

Marlon suddenly had the urge to complain to his boss about the disorderly conduct he was being put through by the callers; even though she wasn't here, he could still leave a note on her desk.

He walked out of the side office into the cubicle room, which was only illuminated by a fluorescent fixture beaming down upon the boss's door.  As he walked closer, he noticed that "FIRE EXIT:  DO NOT OPEN" had been stenciled in with red spray paint, but Marlon knew that this was only to deter salesmen.  He pushed the bar-handle in, but the door would not budge.  He pushed his thumb against the thumbprint scanner next to the door and pushed on the bar again.  This time, he was in.

The boss's office was always being remodeled, but for the time being, the right side was kitchen-like, with dark-green cabinets, drawers, a white fridge and oven, and square, beige floor tiles with elaborate patterns and curlicues gracing their fronts.  The middle held a huge, mahogany conference desk with a decorative circular tempered glass inlay, while a sunset shone through a panoramic, blinded window opposite the door, casting millions of lined shadows and golden stripes across the room.  The rest of the room was blank, but still carpeted the traditional grey, with black rubber baseboard covers.

The urge to deliver the note had now passed, as he now saw Luna bobbing her head up and down in front of another Micron CRT on a wooden desk in the left of the room.  This one had an old Intel webcam mounted on top.

"Whatcha doing there?"

"Ever heard of Shoop?  Sadly, the only way I can bounce a ball off my head is with a simulation-in real life, my horn would pop it."

Indeed, a basketball was being bounced on the screen, apparently by her head's correspondence with the camera.

"I've been waiting here for quite a long time; it's amazing how cluttered humans' dreams are.  This little game was the only thing I could do to keep myself occupied since that door was locked from my side."

Marlon tried to respond, but his mouth would no longer form words, only a garbled "mmuumnhmuhh."  The lip movements were coming with difficulty, and his mind went blank.  He hoped she would not notice the odd spectacle and tried to walk away, embarrassed at his mumbling.  As he walked, he could feel his legs putting up resistance, and suddenly saw bright red numbers in front of him:  "1:32"-his alarm clock.  As he struggled to lift his eyes, he realized that he had, in fact, been dreaming, and tried desperately to break his mind's connection with the artificial world by moving the rest of his limbs.

Finally, Marlon fully awoke and sat up in the pitch-black, realizing how bizarre the dream was.  Odd conversations were normal in dreams, but why did Luna talk to him as if she knew it was one?  He knew that most parts of dreams stemmed from memory, like the old webcam game, the office from a lower floor of his news building, the sunlit conference room.

But what would Luna have to do with dreams?

Marlon was about to fall back asleep, concluding it a circumstance, when Luna's voice rang from behind his ears, like Celestia's had earlier.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stay...."

Marlon's head and eyes suddenly felt incredibly heavy, and as he rested his head on his pillow, the clock's numbers changed from red to a dim blue.

Mikey's Auto Care* was a place Marlon vaguely remembered from his childhood; it was the only place his then-married parents would ever go to have their car repaired.  He saw the ancient building in front of him  exactly as he had remembered it.  The square building was constructed of deep-brown bricks, and was fitted with a window and brown metal door on its right, and a massive brown garage door in the center.  Above the smoky window (which was fitted with ancient, decaying blinds) was a box-shaped light fixture common in industrial parks.  Its shielded bulb emanated dirty orange light across the parking lot, bathing Marlon in an ethereal, ominous glow.  A brown sign graced the wall above the garage door, reading in bleached-white letters, "MIKEY'S AUTO CARE."  To the left and right of the building, Marlon could see the rest of the Brookland industrial park, illuminated only by occasional fluorescent light fixtures.

As Marlon began to wonder why he was back in Nebraska, he realized that this was a dream-there would be no other reason for him to return home.  In addition, he remembered falling asleep and the strangely blue clock numbers.  However, he could feel the hot summer-night air and the pavement beneath his feet, hear the low hum of the light fixture, and taste his own breath.  This was no ordinary dream-not even a lucid one.  Even in those, he could not feel fully awake as he did now.  No, this was different-an experience that Marlon had never felt before.

He was fully conscious within his subconscious.

A horrible squeal emanated from the ancient, suddenly existing loudspeaker above the sign.

"As you can probably tell by now, you're fully conscious.  I thought it would be easier to communicate with you if I could cast a consciousness spell on you before you fell asleep.  As I said before, you humans have horribly cluttered dreams.  Come inside so we can talk."

The static-ridden voice belonged to Luna, and ended with another squeak from the loudspeaker.

What's Luna doing here?  I thought she was outside....  May as well go inside to get some answers.

Marlon decided not to panic at the bizarre situation-he had seen plenty during the day.  And if he panicked now, he would never get answers.

As Marlon walked to the door, he realized that he was only wearing his black boxer shorts that he had been sleeping in, but this was still enough to cover him (decently?).

Can ask Luna to poof me up a shirt.

Marlon opened the door to a dark office that smelled like a bowling alley, and was lit only by the fluorescent light emanating from the open door to the garage room.

As he walked through the door, he noticed that the garage had turned into the small warehouse which he remembered from a thrift store next to the industrial park.  The rusty rafters (graced by conical floodlight fixtures) were at least fifty feet up, while the floor reached forty feet across and two hundred back.  At roughly the 150 foot mark, massive wooden storage shelves reached nearly to the ceiling, and formed the gateway to vacant storage space in the back.  The cinder block walls gave the place a dead feel, emphasized by the icy concrete floor.  The floor was presently lined with rows upon rows of assorted furniture, mainly consisting of couches, futons, and armchairs.  From some hidden speaker system, February Stars was quietly playing.

To his left, Marlon saw Luna standing next to the garage door in all her glory, her dark blue hair now graced with small white dots representing constellations, as it had been when they first met.  She was holding a small shotgun microphone (by wrapping her hoof halfway around it) that was presumably connected to the loudspeaker.

How the hell is she gripping that without fingers?

He remembered how AppleJack took off her hat without fingers as well.

Why didn't I address that before?

"Let me begin by saying that I like your music choice; we had music like this back on Equestria," she said as she shook Marlon's hand and put the microphone down.

"Uh... thanks.  Before we start, do you think you could poof me up a shirt?  I wouldn't imagine you consider my shorts entirely decent."

"If you insist," she said as her horn glowed a dark blue and a white t-shirt appeared in his hands.  "But I personally don't care what you wear, if anything at all.  Most of us ponies walk around naked all the time, so we don't hold very high standards in that department."

"Indeed," said Marlon as he put the shirt on.  "It makes me feel more comfortable-we humans usually hold high standards in non-sexual company."

Why the FUCK did I say that?

"Because you wanted to inform me of your customs, that's why.  What's so wrong with that?  And since you're wondering, all ponies have the ability to do this-it's mild telekinesis-every pony's hooves have this basic magic power."

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you guys can hear thoughts."

"Not all of us can perform mind-reading spells.  And you haven't answered my question."

The guitar quietly played for a few moments.

"Well, I... uh... I..."

"Come on-let's sit down.  You'll feel better."

They walked to a row of furniture.  Luna reclined on a large, leather couch while Marlon used a reclining armchair opposite her.  He pulled the lever to rest his feet.

"I can tell that you're uncomfortable discussing sex out loud, so I won't put you through any more strain."

"I wasn't incredibly uncomfortable referencing it, but I didn't want to put the idea in your head to ask about how humans reproduce-explaining it, whether scientifically or deeply in general is the part I have a problem with."

"I understand.  We don't have to discuss this now, but if you want to get it off your chest, you're in a dream; no one will know you said anything."

"I'll consider it," Marlon said sarcastically.  "Was that the whole purpose of bringing me here?"

"In a way.  I wanted to get a better introduction to Earth's leader, but as privately as possible so that you wouldn't fear anyone watching you in case we discussed something you're uncomfortable about.  In addition, if your guards heard my voice in here with yours, they may think I'm trying to put a curse on you or something of the sort...."

As Luna said the "put a curse on you" line, she waved her front hooves in circles as a comedic effect.

"...And what more private place is there than inside one's mind?"

"I guess that makes sense, but since this is a dream, time appears to go faster, right?  We wouldn't have as much time to talk."

"Not true.  When I enter dreams, I always cast a time-slowing spell.  We could stay here for ten hours, and only five minutes would have actually gone by."

"When you enter dreams?  How often do you do this?"

"I'm the princess of the night, and make it my business to watch over ponies' dreams.  I usually enter about two or three per night in order to dissipate nightmares or to provide private consolation to troubled ponies, like I'm doing with you now."

"How would you know if they're troubled?"

"The dreams will become more disturbing and reflective of their fears when they are most afraid of something.  Say somepony is heavily claustrophobic-their dreams will often include small spaces to reflect their fear.  That would be a case in which I would console the dreamer."

"So you were like Equestria's psychologist, eh?  Did you watch over everyone's dreams at once?"

"Not all at once-I would look across them one by one (by flying over Equestria to get a better view) and skim over the good ones.  If more than one pony needed help though, I could clone myself with magic to enter both dreams."

"How many times can you clone yourself?"

"Only once-the cloning process requires a very large amount of magic, and few ponies can actually pull it off."

"Doesn't seem that helpful-wouldn't a lot of ponies have nightmares at once?"

"No.  Ponies tend to have very stable minds-"

Ba-Dum-Ksshh

"-and rarely have nightmares, unless of course their real-world problems are heavy enough to make it into the dreams."

"Your lives must have been quite the peaceful if that's the case."

"Quite.  We strove to keep healthy relationships with our own kind by helping each other in times of need.  In case we ever were to have extraterrestrial visitors of our own, my sister and I set up a planetary slogan:  'Equestria:  Where Friendship Is Magic!'"

"Back to the-"

"Well actually I thought it up, but my sister painted it on our capital city's welcome sign, if that counts for anything."

"...original subject:  I thought you were sleeping on the lawn-you must be cloning yourself now."

"Yes, but only because a nightmare is happening on the lawn.  All the ponies are isolated in one place, so their dreams can be accessed within my mind.  It's all a matter of distance; I'm not omnipresent."

"So you're just cloning your consciousness right now?"

"Essentially, but I can clone my body as well-I just haven't found a dire need to yet.  I consider them one and the same since they require similar amounts of magic energy."

Everlong began to play from the speakers, which Marlon now saw were attached to the floodlight harnesses.

"Let's move off-topic here.  Why is this dream so ordinary?  There aren't any weird things going on."

"We ponies retain consciousness as we dream, so we connect with the subconscious to make sense of a situation by correcting it with our conscious minds.  This usually makes dream settings appear more realistic.  Because I cast the spell on you, you're dreaming like one of us.  Notice how you ask questions so fluently-your conscious mind is dominating the subconscious, allowing your thoughts to stay on-topic."

"Why is that specific music playing then?"

"Your conscious mind is allowing the subconscious to access memories, which is where the music is coming from as well as the warehouse setting.  I can access a dreamer's memories as well to create new dream settings, but I don't see a need to do that now-there aren't any 'distant past' answers you want to know."

"If you can access memories, why do you need me to tell you what's wrong?"

"Well..., it's a long story, and it's not one I'm proud of, but it involves being lonely for long periods of time, resulting in a constant attraction for company.  Let's leave it at that."

"Well, you've succeeded in piquing my curiosity, but we all have stuff we're uncomfortable with, so I won't push you to tell it....  Wow, deja-vu."

"Thank you-it's nice to know that humans understand compassion."

"Oohhh, not most of us.  Many humans are quite mean; you wouldn't like them at all."

"That problem should have been alleviated when we sent down the hypnosis blast."

"What hypnosis blast?"

"The ship sent down an untraceable, permanent, anti-hostility hypnosis blast so large it hopefully would have reached the whole planet.  We did this while we were slowly landing.  We're aliens, but we're not stupid-we learned from the previous expedition to Earth to hypnotize first, ask questions later."

"So people who ran screaming from the landing site were only in pain at that horrific braking noise?"

"Indeed, but some may not be affected-the blast should have reached across the planet, but we're not sure if we have hypnosis spells of that large a magnitude perfected.  There's never been a life-or-death situation in which we needed to use them on Equestria.  And if anyone... lost their hearing due to the anti-gravity brakes, tell them to let Celestia know.  She knows how to cure ailments like that.  Death, however, isn't one of them."

"Well that totally defeats the purpose of my TV interview.  Nobody seemed to be angry ex-"

Marlon remembered the harsh comments toward Melski about the decision.

"Except for those guys," Marlon said quietly.

(And I wonder... when I sing along with you... if anything could ever feel this real forever...)

The music provided a background for his thoughts.

"Let me guess-some people are angry at your decision to not kill us?"

"How did you-oh, yeah the memories."

"No-I just heard you say 'except for those guys.'  When I access a dreamer's memories, the dreamer and I are both transported into them so we can watch events happen-I would have warned you before going into your memories so you wouldn't be too scared."

"I've seen too much crazy stuff today-there's a talking alien horse inside my head that's casting magic spells on me-I don't think the memory thing would be that scary."

As Marlon said that out loud, he realized how truly bizarre the situation was, and knew that the spell was working on him to prevent him from being monumentally scared.

"I'm not sure if they're angry at the armed forces for not killing you in case you were hostile, or at the fact that they let aliens live period."

"Well, it's probably the latter-why would they be angry if the plan worked?"

"Why do you think some people weren't affected?"

"It could possibly have something to do with the chemicals in their bodies at the time or their specific gene combinations that just so happened to make them immune to hypnosis-I'm not sure."

"Well I can certainly see why they have a hostile disposition toward aliens-almost every alien story talks about the aliens being hostile and 'shoot-worthy.'  I certainly hope my TV episode calmed a few of them down."

"That makes sense-if you humans have never dealt with aliens, you have no frame of reference about their behavior."

"Yeah-and in the stories, the ones that are nice are usually plotting some evil scheme."

It's a cookbook!

They paused as the music played on.

"Judging by your emission of pheromones and your facial expression, I can tell you're nervous about who we really are."

"I shouldn't be-didn't the spell work?"

Marlon was not surprised that Luna could smell pheromones; animals on Earth did it as well.

"Maybe not if you still feel nervous.  Maybe you didn't need it after all."

"If that's the case, I suddenly feel like a better person."

"Since you're nervous, I can prove my story.  I'll show you some memories of Equestria."

Luna's eyes began to glow a bright white, and her horn followed suit in its deep blue.  After ten seconds, the room faded into pitch blackness, and he began to see a completely different scene through his eyes, yet he was still sitting down.  Luna's voice then rang inside his head.

"You're looking at a memory of Equestria from my past eyes.  We ponies possess literally photographic memory capabilities, so these scenes will play out exactly as they happened.  And the translation spell applies to memories as well."

Luna was walking in this memory; Marlon could tell by the constant "camera" motion.  The road she was walking through was lined with odd buildings; most were apparently constructed of wood, but other unknown materials may have been used.  Their facades contained off-white walls and colored wooden beams, and were topped with thatch roofs, giving them similar appearances to Victorian English architecture, save for their circular, square, and occasionally heart-shaped windows, many of which displayed window boxes.  Streetlamps lit the road with incandescent light, but were in the style of old gas lamps.  The variety signs in front of the buildings indicated that this was Equestria's main street, advertising businesses such as "Dentist," "Cafe," "Vinyl's Vinyl Shop," "Barber," and "Sugar Cube Corner."  The last building massive and was topped with a structure resembling a cupcake.  It was obviously early night-time, judging by the Earth-like moon in the navy-blue sky and the shining lights within every building.

As Luna walked, Marlon saw other ponies walking on the road, while some were closing their shops for the night by shutting doors and turning "open" signs.  Some waved to Luna as she went by, smiling.

Eventually, Luna was knocked down on her side by an unknown force.

"I'M SO SORRY, PRINCESS LUNA!!  I GUESS THE BLASTS O' WIND BLEW ME INTO YOU!" said a stereotype of a half-retarded, female voice.

A grey hoof appeared and hooked around Luna's to help her up.  A small, grey pegasus with yellow hair filled the picture.  Something was wrong with her eyes, though; one was pointed at Luna, but the other was pointing up and to the center of her head, attempting to cross with the straight eye.

That must be the one Celestia was talking about-Derpy.

"It's... OK, Derpy.  You're right, the winds are rather strong up there tonight-I flew in them earlier."

She gave the top of Derpy's head a small rub with her hoof, which was clad in a silver cover, similar to Celestia's.

"THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING, LUNA!" said Derpy as she embraced Luna's front right leg.  She lifted herself off the ground with rapid flaps of her wings and hovered away to her destination, being sure to stay out of the upper atmosphere.

Those wing movements aren't fast enough to lift these things, are they?

Luna occasionally looked left and right to observe the ponies outside of her peripheral vision.  As she looked left into a dark alley, she saw a tall dumpster with a barely noticeable small piece of hair sticking out from behind it.  Luna used her (X-ray?) vision to turn the dumpster transparent in her eyes.  Behind it were two ponies, one with bright yellow skin, to whom the orange hair belonged to, and-

Dashie?

-locking lips behind it.  The latter was leaning against a wall while the other was hugging her for support.  The dumpster turned opaque again as Luna said to herself under her breath:  "There they go again."  She had obviously seen enough.

I knew it!

Luna walked off the main road to a massive building shaped like a carousel and knocked on the door.

Who the fuck designed this place?

A three-foot tall white unicorn with bright-green eyes opened the door.  Its mane and tail were curled like cotton candy and pink with a purple stripe down them.

"Hi, Princess Luna," the creature said with an extremely high voice like that of a young girl.  Marlon would have despised the voice had it belonged to a young human girl, but the creature's shape alleviated the effect.

Jesus Fuckity Christ, that thing's cute!

"If you're looking for Rarity, she's in her room.  She's been working on a new dress all week; I'm not sure what occasion it's for, though.  Maybe the Grand Galloping Gala, Hearts and Hooves Day, who knows?" she said with a small shrug of her shoulders.

"Thank you, Sweetie Belle," said Luna as she walked inside.

Her name is SWEETIE? Must have gotten her name from that star, but god... DAMN!  It just gets cuter!

Luna observed the room as she walked towards the entrance to a spiral stair case.  The walls were decorated with mirrors and pony-shaped dress forms on daises.  Stacks of fabric dotted the white floor opposite the high, purple ceiling, decorated with red drapery.

"Be careful, though," Sweetie called as Luna reached the stairs, "She hasn't slept in days and our coffee supply's low, so if you came in unannounced and weren't the princess, she'd probably KILL you!"  Sweetie's voice cracked with a brutally high-pitched squeak as she said the word "kill," as if to add emphasis.

It's official-that is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.  End of story.

"I'll keep that in mind," said Luna as she entered the staircase.

The stairs were encased by purple walls on each side and led up the side of the building.  Windows let in the moonlight from the left, making the glow ethereal.  In the curved hallway upstairs, Luna knocked on a red door with a large "R" expertly carved into it.  Slow shuffling followed, and then deliberate 'clop' sounds, as if Rarity was angrily coming forward to make the kill.

An odd mutation of Rarity opened the door.  Its hair was frizzled beyond belief and complimented the bags under its eyes well.  Marlon could see a small line of crust to the left of its lip to indicate previous drooling during sudden, uncontrollable naps.  The eyes were angry from a week's worth of stress, but became shocked as they saw only a pair of legs and a torso at her door; the mutated Rarity was forced to look up to see Luna's face.

"P-princess Luna!  What brings you here?" she said nervously, desperately working a comb over her hair with magic.  Her attitude completely changed in the presence of royalty.  However, she would not move away from the door frame.

"I hear you're rather stressed over a new dress; what's it for?"

"It's my gala dress, and I've had to remake it twelve times; it never comes out right!"

"I think it looks wonderful," said Luna as she looked at the dress form inside.  The dress accompanying it was extremely elaborate, consisting of a variety of colors, folds, and jeweled, reflective, curlicues.

"You really think so?  Do you think it will impress the other ponies there?"

"Of course!  In fact, I would wear it myself if I could!"

"Well, if it's good enough for a princess, it's good enough for me!" she said excitedly.  Compliments were like cocaine to her.

"Now that that issue's out of the way, I have a request for you:  as you know, the Grand Galloping Gala is next week and I'd like you to make my dress this year."

Rarity's pupils enlarged exponentially and her lips slowly widened into a freakishly large grin.

"Couldn't... you... just... get... somepony... in... Canterlot... to... do... it...?  They're... much... more... qualified... than... me...," she said, still grinning, through her teeth.  She was using this as a "pinch" for the "pinch me, I must be dreaming" scenario.

"Well, I easily could, or I could possibly whip one up myself, since I'm quick to learn things.  But I've seen your dressmaking capabilities; each one you make compliments the personality of the pony wearing it astonishingly, which is far more than can be said for the generic Canterlot dress (which is much too stiff, by the way).  It's something you were born with-something I could never fully acquire.  Is that OK with you?"

"Yes," Rarity said through the possibly painful grin.

"I'll need it by the day of the gala, but remember one thing:  one special requirement that must be made of you, or it will screw the whole thing up.  Do you know what that is?"  Luna said in a suddenly serious voice.

"What is it?"

Luna leaned in close to Rarity's ear and whispered:  "Don't stress over it."

"Wha?" asked Rarity, returning her mouth to its normal shape.

"You always second-guess yourself, which leads to extreme stress about whether a dress is 'perfect' or not.  Just because I was born into royalty doesn't mean that everything has to be perfect for me.  On the way here, Derpy crashed into me full-force, but I wasn't mad because her flying was less than perfect.  I forgave her because I knew that there were strong updrafts in the sky tonight that can throw pegasi off-course.  The same principle applies to the dress:  I don't care whether what you make is perfect.  But I'm sure that whatever you make will be, whether you think it is or not.  That's what talents are for."

"Th-thank you, Princess Luna-I'll get started on the dress right away!"

"Maybe tomorrow.  Look at yourself," Luna said, levitating a suddenly-existing mirror in front of Rarity's face.  "You desperately need rest."

"I'm not sure if I could go to sleep now.  The excitement of this job will keep me awake."

"Let me help."

Luna poofed away the mirror and Rarity's head began to glow a deep blue, which corresponded with Luna's now-invisible horn.

"On s-*yawn*-second thought, maybe you're right," said Rarity, making uneasy, tired steps to her four-poster bed (which was now visible since Luna had tucked her head inside the room).

Rarity collapsed on her bed and began to snore obnoxiously.  Luna used her magic to pull the blanket over her body.

"Good night, Rarity," said Luna.

"That last memory was of Ponyville, in order to show how we usually interacted with one another.  This one is of my room at Canterlot Castle," said Luna's voice inside Marlon's head.

Marlon (Luna) was now sitting on a large four-poster bed in a massive, mostly blank room composed entirely of smooth, dark-blue stone.  The bed sheets were a deep blue, but the color swirled into black, then back to blue like a mystical oil slick.  The swirling motion seemed to continue endlessly.  To Luna's left was a large metal door with a massive wheel-locking mechanism on the front, with three thick metal bars corresponding to the confusing array of drive-bars.

As Luna looked around the room, Marlon glimpsed the massive, detailed, painting of the Equestrian moon on the black wall (which was blue a moment ago) opposite Luna's bed.  Marlon figured that the wall's color corresponded to the sky color associated with the specific time of night.

Upon closer examination, Marlon saw that the "moon" was in front of the wall.  And it lifted itself higher every few seconds.

The massive, levitating model of the moon appeared nearly identical to Earth's, but its surface bore a silhouette of a head like Luna's in its "seas."  As Luna looked out the panoramic window on the right of the bed, Marlon saw the face on the moon in all its glory, and it was definitely ominous.  The Equestrian moon appeared to be the same size as Earth's moon, but orbital distance could have been causing this effect.

Luna walked to the window and stared far below at Ponyville, which looked like a small inkblot compared to the vast forest around it and the mountains in the distance.  Her room was so high up that it mimicked a view from a plane.  She let out a sigh of appreciation as she gazed at her kingdom.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said a sarcastic voice from Luna's left.  She whipped her head to the side to see who had spoken.

Oh... My... Fucking... God...

The creature to Luna's left was the most hideous thing Marlon had ever seen, and he was forced to slam his invisible mouth closed to stifle a scream.  Its body looked like a ten-foot-long, fuzzy, brown eel that ended in a red, spiked snake tail with a white fin, and its appendages consisted of a tiger's paw, an eagle's talon, and two legs:  one of a dragon (similar to Spike's) and one of a goat.  The appendages were in horrible condition:  the paw's ends were broken to freakish angles, the talon's claws had been turned back in on themselves or smashed backward through the skin, the dragon leg had been half-skinned, with human-like bone and muscle shining through, and the hoof was vertically pierced through the center by a large rail spike.  About three-quarters of the way up its body, the hair grew to a light sepia, and sprouted a black donkey's mane.  Its head was a perfect picture of what a pony's would look like if it had been bashed down at the nose multiple times with a sledgehammer and shoddily reassembled, making it at least two-and-a-half-feet long and horribly disfigured, with caved-in spaces covered by skin everywhere.  The head was graced by two "horns," one of a goat and the other a broken deer antler; sliced goat ears lay beneath.  Its face sported a white goatee and eyebrows, with yellow eyes, red pupils, and a twisted-back mouth with a fang-like tooth hanging out of one end.  However, one eye was only barely visible, since the front end of the skull was constantly forcing the eyelid down.

And it was levitating.

"Discord!" exclaimed Luna.

"Oh, that's marvelous, my dear; your eyesight is doing wonderfully," the creature said with a laugh, its voice imitating Tom Petty's if he had acquired stage 45 lung cancer.**  Occasional breaths formed a deep, haunting wheeze.

"What do you want?" said Luna icily.

"I just wanted to drop in and say 'Hi.'  Is that so much of a crime?"

As Discord talked, his jaw barely moved.  When his long lips opened to form words, Marlon saw his coal-black gums filled with spiky teeth jutting out from completely random angles; one was even growing out of the bottom jaw, and ran under his blood-red, human-like tongue with a small, metallic "shink" every time he moved it.  In addition, the "fang" dove into his gums with a "chok" whenever he moved his jaw enough, pulling out purple liquid every time, which settled on the tongue in a thick crust.  Marlon saw that the appendages were covered with the stuff as well, so the purple liquid was definitely Discord's blood.

"You know that I make my dream-rounds this late; what do you want?"

"I wanted to make a better acquaintance with you, and I figured that the best time to do that would be when you would be awake... which is now."

"You already have Celestia's acceptance; isn't that good enough?"

"Well, it gets lonely up in my room since I don't have much reading material, so I figured that I'd just try to get to know the other half of the royalty so that I can always have someone to talk to, see?"

"Just because Celestia decided to trust you doesn't mean I do.  Not even Fluttershy could turn you over for good."

"Will you relax, Luna?  You act as if I'm a murderer."

"Get out before I make a statue out of you!"

"Oh, playing the 'statue' card, eh?  Look, you know as well as I do that that's not a very convincing threat; I broke out that one time, didn't I?  And even if I can't break out of this one, Celestia will free me again and be furious at you.  Besides, do you even know how to turn anything into stone?"

With a blue flash, Discord's left leg was immediately encased in what appeared to be granite.

"Ooh, nice one!  Did Celestia teach you that?"

A hammer poofed into Discord's paw as he stood upright (The fact that the magical aura was red instead of blue indicated that its appearance was his doing.).  He bent down and smashed the rock with considerable force, causing it and the hammer to shatter, then transform into a fine, grey powder which he then snorted through his nose like cocaine via a straw that had just materialized.

"How hard is it for you to accept the fact that I don't want to hurt you?" he said, (painfully?) sniffing the straw into his nose with the last of the powder.

"Very.  Now leave!" said Luna as she unlocked the door with magic.

"OK, OK, you win; wouldn't want to put you in an uncomfortable situation"

The last two words were said with extreme sarcasm, made heavier by Discord's pitiful attempt to puff out his cheeks.

"But I'll find some way to win you over, you'll see."

Marlon noticed two white ponies with golden armor standing outside Luna's door, presumably guards.  He found it odd that they did not appear to notice the intruder's voice.

Discord walked out the bedroom door as Luna magically slammed it shut, twisting the massive the wheel-lock into place.

"Just to play Devil's advocate, I'm going to pretend that I can't just poof in there again," said Discord's muffled voice from outside.  An odd shuffling followed, indicating his moving away.

Marlon was back in the warehouse, staring at Luna.  An organ was quietly playing over the speaker system, signaling the beginning of Captain Jack.

"That's Discord?!" said Marlon in a terrified tone.

"You were expecting a big spider?" replied Luna sarcastically.

"No-something along the lines of a giant, black pony with red eyes and stuff!  That... THING looks like it came out of Tim Burton's nightmares!"

"I don't know who that is, but I'll assume he has something to do with horror stories, judging by context.

By the way, he's not quite a 'thing,' but a draconiquus, the last of his species to live on Equestria."

"How is that spelled-that 'draconikwuh-thing?'"

"D-R-A-C-O-N-I-Q-U-U-S; the translation spell also encompasses the spellings of another language."

"You should have killed him when you had the chance!"

"I wish we could have.  However, he's not an animal; he's a spirit, and can not be killed, only imprisoned.  And the only way to do that is with the Elements of Harmony."

"I don't know what those are, but how did you put his leg in stone without them?"

"His entire body must be blasted into a stone state at once, or else he will break free, as you saw in the memory.  That's where the Elements of Harmony come in:  magical tiaras so powerful that they can imprison spirits in one blast.  Even that spell I cast in the memory required a large amount of magic power."

"Why was he still on Equestria, then?"

"Before ponies evolved, the draconiquui inhabited our planet in peaceful societies.  However, their population grew too vast for the planet to handle, and they migrated into space to find a larger one.  Discord was the youngest draconiquus-only 43, and was left behind in a cave in fear that he wouldn't be able to stand the voyage.  His parents told him that they would send a message to him later about where they had settled so that he could make the journey himself.  The message never came, and it is believed that they never found a planet, but are searching to this day.  He attempted to find a planet for himself multiple times, but each attempt was unsuccessful, and he was forced to return to Equestria, since he grew bored easily and needed a definitive landscape to keep him occupied.  The beauty of space just wasn't enough for him.

Eventually, Discord went mad from loneliness, and decided that if he couldn't have a companion, no one could.  He ran rampant across Equestria, killing and torturing other life forms such as birds and insects.  His most common practice was to slowly dismember them in front of their own kind.  When ponies evolved, he saw their peaceful ways of life and began to devise plans to kill them all at once.  Bashed his head down with a boulder and shoddily reassembled it to make himself more frightening.  Ate all sorts of abrasive things like sand, rocks, and the like to make his voice scarier."

"But insects and birds aren't fully sentient; they operate off of instinct.  Why would torturing them satisfy him that much?  By the way, why do our planets have so many animals in common?  Did there just so happen to be a one-in-a-billion evolutionary cycle duplication?"

"On Equestria, all animals are completely sentient, but only some can talk.  We know this because we can access their full memories, and their thoughts read in our language, indicating that they have learned it over the years by living alongside us.  And yes, to answer your question, but judging by the size and infinite expansion of the universe, it's not surprising that two worlds have similar evolutionary cycles."

"So what were his plans, if you don't mind me asking?"

Marlon's tone was still tense.  He wondered to himself why he was pressing on for more of a back story.

"His first plan was to kill ponies by causing their heads to implode, but my sister end I encased him in stone before he could do much damage.  However, after thousands of years, he somehow broke himself out of the stone shell and began his second evil plan, which was to magically turn ponies against each other, in hopes that we would kill off our own kind.  He was defeated again, but this time he was completely turned into stone:  bones, muscles, and all.  Eventually, my sister freed him and attempted to change his ways via Fluttershy's compassion.  Over time, her kindness seemed to influence him for the better, but I knew he hadn't changed at all.  Celestia trusted him, however, and let him stay in the castle for many months, but a guard warned her of his third plan; while walking by Discord's room, the guard had heard him mumbling to himself about it."

(But Captain Jack will get you high tonight... and take you to your special island...)

As Marlon listened to Luna's story, he slowly calmed himself down from his wrenching fear.  He rolled his head through his hands and said, "How do you know so much about him?"

"Some of our more intrepid explorers decided to break into his cave lair one day to copy down his journals.  It's a miracle they weren't killed."

Marlon slumped back in his chair and listened to the song for a full minute, hoping he would calm down even further.  Luna stared at him understandingly.

"Can't you just cast another one of those anti-fear spells on me?  Thanks to that... thing, I'm all shook up.

"I'm not sure if that would work-you may very well have been immune to the hypnosis blast, and an anti-fear spell lies within the same category."

"You made me fall asleep, right?  I wasn't immune to that."

"Different type of spell.  Like the electromagnetic spectrum, there are different types, or frequencies, of magic, and anti-fear and anti-hostility spells operate on the same frequency."

"Can't you at least try?"

"I'm performing enough magic as it is, what with the cloning, time manipulation, and memory access.  Any more would cause me to actually work at it."

Marlon sat back and looked up at the ceiling and concentrated heavily on the music.

(But Captain Jack will get you high tonight...)

"The music is soothing you rather well.  I must remember to access it more in my nightmare prevention."

"How long was I in there?" Marlon asked, still reclined.  His tension had nearly disappeared.

"Just long enough for that last song to end and for this one to start.  Time also passes slowly in the memories due to another spell I used.  Let me add that your mind does have quite the variety of music."

"What is it with all this time manipulation?  Is it all necessary?"

"Probably not, but I prefer to talk to the dreamer for as long as possible in order to figure out what their problems are, or in your case, who you really are."

"Wouldn't you know who I am already?  Couldn't you have just listened in to the TV interview and gauged my personality?"

"That didn't tell much about you, did it?"

"Well, what is there to tell?  I like to appeal to people's emotions....  I have a soft spot for cute things....  I have trouble discussing sex, but no trouble having it....  That's about all.  Why would you need to know more?"

"Because if you're the leader of your... country is it?"

"Yes, but the other two branches have a role in it, too.  I don't have absolute power."

"...the leader of your country, I think it's a good idea to know more about you so we can relate more closely with one another-you know, to build mutual trust."

"Well....  OK.  I guess I can tell a bit more."

Conversation calms me down.

"Thank you.  Celestia knows the basics about you, but I prefer to dive into true personalities."

"I can see that.  Before we start this new subject, can I ask you a few questions about that first memory?"

"Go ahead."

"Why does Equestria look like Victorian England?"

"That was only Ponyville; the whole planet doesn't look like that.  And to answer your question, I don't know what Victorian England is, but it must be another coincidence, like the evolutionary cycles.  We build our buildings out of steel and bricks, but we find wood to be more welcoming."

"Next question:  who is Sweetie Belle exactly?"

"She's Rarity's sister-only 11.  She's not much like her sister in that she doesn't obsess over fashion, but she has a beautiful singing voice.  She could probably sing the song playing right now with phenomenal tonal accuracy.  You'll meet her eventually."

Marlon found it odd to imagine a child-like alien singing a song about heroin, especially with that voice.  He began to snicker quietly.

"I don't blame you for that reaction, but her voice never squeaks when she sings.  You'll be quite impressed if you ever hear her."

"I'm sure I will," said Marlon, letting the laugh wither away.

"Anything else about the memories?"

"Well, I was originally going to ask about Sweetie's reference to coffee, but then I remembered the evolutionary similarities.  So let me just ask this:  why does your moon have that shape on it?"

Luna stared at him as if he had said nothing.

"What shape?" she said obliviously.

"In the dark spots on the moon (we call them 'mare***,' or 'seas')-"

Wait... 'mare' is spelled like 'mare,' a.k.a. a female horse....  The fuck is with all these puns?

"-there was a shape of a unicorn, kinda like... kinda like you."

"Is it supposed to have another shape?  I always considered that part of the moon itself."

"Our moon has a distorted face, if you look at it the right way.  But yours is so well defined.  Why is that?"

"Meteors hit the moon in a certain way to give it that shape.  What else could it be?"

Marlon knew that she was hiding the real reason; he was phenomenally talented at picking up vibes from other people and sensing their emotions, and this was no exception, even though the second party was an alien.  He noticed a microscopic hint of discomfort in her voice, which completely gave her away.  Not including the fact that she denied the existence of a shape in the first place; she wasn't blind.

He decided not to call out her lie just yet, but ease her into admitting the reason.  This would let her know that he was quick to analyze a situation, and that he had a level of patience.

"It could very well have been meteors, but the resemblance to a pony is astounding.  Must have been a hell of a coincidence that meteors crashed into the moon to make an astoundingly accurate silhouette of a pony who definitely resembles you.  It was a coincidence that meteors hit our moon in a certain pattern, but the resemblance to a human face is extremely vague."

"Why are you so obsessed with how a moon looks?"

The discomfort grew ever so slightly.

"Because it's so perfect.  I can buy the evolutionary stuff, but why would somebody put a picture of themselves on the moon?"

"Be-"

Marlon grinned smugly.

"You're not that much different from us-your brain, under the tension of lying, failed to notice that I dove deeper into the subject.  I know Celestia wouldn't have anything to do with the moon, since you're the princess of the night, and the fact that it's your silhouette makes it even clearer."

Luna stared at him with massive pupils and a large amount of surprise.

"What's the story, Morning Glory?"

"Morning Glory?"

"It's a reference to a song."

"Why would you want to know?  It doesn't matter anymore."

"Because you avoided it, yet you brought up a memory where I could see it."

"I just wanted to show you Discord so you could understand our predicament.  I didn't think you would pay attention to the moon."  Her voice was sad and guilty.

"Are you sure about that?"

She stared at him sadly until I Guess That's Why They Call It 'The Blues' began.

How apt.

"No.  If you must know....  I knew you would notice it; you're not blind.  I... wanted someone... to maybe... understand.  To not hate me for my past."

"Does this have something to do with that thing you didn't want to talk about earlier?"

"Y-yes."  Her face was now resting on her foreleg, looking truly pitiful.  She looked ready to cry.

"I've got time, if you'd like."

"I... don't know where to begin."

"Well, how did the shape get there?  Lasers?  Tires...?"

"Hooves.  I walked across the moon to make it.  Took a while, too, since our moon is about half the size of our planet."

"OK, let's get to why you were up there."

"My sister trapped me there for... a thousand years with an invisible forcefield."

"Why would she do something like that?  Sounds pretty drastic."

"Drastic actions were necessary...."

"Any idea why?"

(And I guess that's why they call it 'the blues.'  Time on my hands could be time spent with you....)

Marlon heard small splashing sounds coming at regular intervals; something like a leaky pipe.  He looked down at the floor and saw water slowly accumulating under Luna's face.  She emitted a small sound, lower than Fluttershy's, but still high enough to be considered a "squeak."

"Because I was a m... m... m-m-m"

"M-what?"

(And I guess that's why they call it 'the blues.')

"MURDERER!" she said loudly, the last "R" giving way to a mighty blast of tears onto the floor.  Her sobs were far heavier and louder than Fluttershy's, reflecting far heavier emotional pain.  Marlon silently debated with himself whether or not he should use the same method he did on Fluttershy.

Luna's horn began to glow as she stood up, and Marlon saw that his legs were painlessly stretching out, making him at least a foot taller.  His body began to glow, and he was lifted out of his seat into a standing position.  Luna wrapped her forelegs around him and rested her head on his left shoulder, as Fluttershy had done.  He was immediately drenched by tears.

"I was jealous of ponies' appreciation for the day instead of the night!  I gave horrible nightmares to force them to stay awake at night!  Lack of sleep killed f-f-FIFTY!!  Twenty more went insane!  Killed THEMSELVES!"

Marlon could sense the bottomless guilt she felt.  It was good that the guilt existed so that she wouldn't try it again.

"Y-you don't know what it's like to be alone for a millennium!"

"Awww.  There, there, let it all out," he said as he began to rub her neck, noticing how light she was against him.

Please fix my mom's brain!

"And then feared by every pony you know!  They still afraid of me deep down!"

She squeezed him in a death-grip; he was barely able to breathe.

"I'm not afraid of you," said Marlon sympathetically with what air he could muster.  "That was a long time ago; you're not like that anymore."

Heavier tears now.  Tighter grip.

"You don't know how long it's been since I've heard that!"

(And I guess that's why they call it the blues.  Time on my hands could be time spent with you....)

It continued for quite some time, until the song ended and her eyes ran dry.  Marlon looked as if he had been blasted with a fire hose.  Overhead, the melancholy riffs of Brothers in Arms began.

Are these songs starting to match my emotions?

"I'm s-sorry you had to see me this way."

"You're a leader of your people, and it's hard to show a lot of heavy emotion in public; I get it.  Besides, didn't it feel good to get that out of your system?"

"Yes.  I suppose it did."  She continued to embrace Marlon for a few minutes, then returned him to normal size.  She sat down on the couch again.

It was one of the saddest things Marlon had ever witnessed:  Luna was so desperate for someone to forget her past-to admit that he wasn't afraid, that she trusted him on the first day (technically second, since it was in the a.m.).

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I don't have the best backstory either.  My mom was certifiably insane and my dad didn't care much for me.  He left my mom and she eventually killed herself."

Had Marlon's air of sympathy been absent, he never would have told her the story.  He could not bear to see Luna this way.

"Does that have something to do with your aversion to sex discussion?"

Marlon thought about whether he should answer.  Then again, she seemed to trust him enough.  Why not trust her?  He had kept it low for so long; maybe she could really help.

"M... my mom hated it; never let my dad do her.  I can sort of understand why the poor bastard left.  Anyway, she decided to impose that sort of philosophy on me, and never let me know it existed.  Of course, I knew all about it from the kids at school, but whenever I would ask her about it, she would try to beat me up; she was a strong one, too.  Once came at me with a knife for asking what masturbation was; had to knock her unconscious with a bat-only thing i could do."

The words easily spilled from Marlon's mouth.  He was secretly delighted to have someone actually listen.

It's been so long....

"Called the cops; they didn't buy it; thought I had gone crazy 'cause my mom was a good actor-acted like nothing happened when they came around.  When she caught me actually masturbating, she hit me with a spatula (I know it sounds funny, but for one, it was the only thing she could find, and two, those things can really pack a punch.) and attempted to kick my nuts.  Luckily I was faster.  Punched my sister when she had her menarche, but I don't expect you to know what that is.

I know it's a stupid habit to keep, but something in the back of my mind still keeps me from wanting to discuss it; I'm scared somebody will hurt me.  However, doing it is OK; it can be done in secret.  I decided to break away from my mom and do it like a madman when I got older.  Had to prove her wrong.  Gave me the constant sex drive of a teenage guy, too.  That's the one good thing that came out of this."

Luna stared with even more surprise than she had before.

"Interesting," she murmured under her breath.

"But don't tell anybody; I don't normally discuss why I have these problems.  In fact, I'm just doing it now so that you won't feel so alone."

Like a bat out of Hell, I'll be gone when the morning comes, thought Marlon among Mark Knopfler's low riffs.

"Don't worry.  You're safe within your dreams....  And with me."  Her eyes were still wide.  "So that's why you had an erection when Pinkie kissed you.  I guess any female contact like that will do the job; your brain doesn't care what species it is, as long as it's anthropomorphic."

Now it was Marlon's turn to have wide eyes.

Doesn't mean I'm a fucking furry.

"I could hear the interview through the walls, and could sense your arousal."

"Then why did you say you hoped the interview went well if you know what happened?  You knew when sundown was, so you must have looked through the walls, too."

"I didn't see all of the interview, since I was just waking up at the time, but I have a special ability to sense sexual arousal."

"What's the purpose of that?"

"I use it for detecting wet dreams."

"Why would you want to see those?"

"On Equestria, we weren't very open about sex either, and some teenage ponies felt guilty when they had them.  Of course, it's my job to calm their nerves."

"You seem like a good psychologist-I'm sure they weren't uncomfortable for long."

"No, they certainly weren't...."

I heard an ellipsis there.

"I can help you work on that problem, if you'd like.  It's what I do all the time," Luna said sympathetically, wiping the last tear remnant from her eye with her foreleg.  "Besides, it's a great trust building exercise."

Marlon considered for a moment.

"I'm... not sure.  I've gone twenty years without discussing it in depth with anyone except my doctor, and don't think I liked that."

"You'll feel so much better.  You can finally lift that weight off your back."

"Sure, it sounds nice, but I'm not sure where to begin.  You know my story, so how would this start off?"

"You can start by pretending you're a teacher, and I'm a student.  You're doing a lesson on human anatomy.  What would you say?"

"Uh... I... I don't know.  Th-there's a guy... and a girl... and they... uh... have sex.  What else is there?"

His voice was an involuntary whisper.  He knew that the facts had to come out and that he looked rather stupid doing this, but his throat would not comply.  In addition, his vision became dark and blurry, as if his eyes were attempting to shield themselves from whatever punishment awaited.

"What do you call the male reproductive organ?"

"A p... p... penis."

"Good.  Now what's the female one?"

"A v... vagina."

"So what happens next?"

"Nothing.  Those are the pieces, just like you asked."

Marlon's tone was heightening in nervousness.

"You know what I mean.  What do they... do?"

"You know full well what they do.  Celestia did some telepathy thing on me and told me how you... conduct... intercourse.  Just the same as us."  Marlon was beginning to sweat under the tension of being put on the spot.  "Is the a/c on in here?  'Cause it could use some turnin' up."

"I must admit, you were not cut out to be a teacher, if this is how you give lectures.  OK, here's a better exercise:  I'll say a word, and you say the first one that comes to mind."

"You actually do that?  I didn't think that test worked."

"Word association can reveal quite a few things about a personality.  Penis."

"OK, I'll try it.  Veins," Marlon said, slightly amused that basic psychology methods were universal.

"Vagina."

"Lips."

"Slide."

"Metal."

"Thrust."

"Rocket."

"Come."

"Go."

"Ejaculate."

"...white..."

"Semen."

"Navy."

"Butt."

"Hole."

"Insert."

"Key."

"Interesting.  Your mind automatically diverts from the sexual response, except for the body parts."

"Well, when I'm being put on the spot, of course that'll be the case."

"Indeed.  But you did seem to have an easier time reacting to 'penis' and 'vagina.'"

"So is that it?"

"Question:  Are you able to talk about it when you're actually having sex with women?"

Marlon had never considered it before; he rarely spoke while having sex; he just let fly and let her make the noises.

"No, I guess I don't.  I've never thought about it before."

"I have an idea, but it's a little odd.  It may make you more open to discussion, though."

"What does it require on my part?"

"Close your eyes firmly."

"Why?"  Marlon said skeptically.

"Because I'll try another association exercise, and it may work better if your brain doesn't see me here to put you on the spot."

"But I'll know you're here."

"Your brain might think otherwise, though.  Your consciousness can be influenced by your subconscious mind.  Just remember to keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them."

"O... K.  I'll do it," Marlon said as he closed his eyes.  He knew what would happen.  Luna would do something weird.  Whether it would be sucking his dick, beating him off, or otherwise, he couldn't tell.  Pinkie's kiss was oddly arousing, but having all-out sex with an alien was going too far.   There could be bizarre diseases hiding in her nether regions, and he would be labeled as "Richard the Alien Fucker" if caught in the act.  Then again, this was a dream, so he was safe....

No!  It couldn't be done!  But maybe this actually was just an exercise and nothing would happen down there.

He could feel Luna's warm, flat, smooth hoof touching his right cheek.  It was firm like (a hand?).

"How do you feel?"

"Relaxed.  This chair is nice and comfy."

The hoof made small circles on his cheek.

"How about now?  Anything... happening?"

"Nope.  Just sitting here."

The hoof receded and another found his left cheek.

"Nice and warm, eh?"

"Yeah.  Feels soothing."

The hoof receded.  Marlon could then feel breathing on his face, which smelled like summer night air.  Pleasant.

Just an exercise.  Just an exercise.

"Now?  Feeling different?"

"I feel breathing, if that's what you want to know.  Smells nice-reminds me of summer."

"Indeed.  Summery."

Marlon could feel lips lock on to his, and he instinctively locked back.  Two arms held his back to pull him forward.  A human-like tongue slipped into his mouth to feel around, and he instinctively returned the favor.  The opposite mouth tasted like nothing, but was warm, wet, and welcoming.  Like an old (girlfriend's?  Which one?).

The lips embraced his for a considerable time, then withdrew and a voice said, "And now?"

Why am I doing this?  What should I say?

"Gi... give me some more."

Didn't even have to think about that one.

The kissing resumed for two more minutes, the wet sound of lips advancing and withdrawing echoed in Marlon's head.  As they retracted fully, Marlon noticed that someone had replaced his penis with a brick of titanium.  The metallic substance was being handled by the hoof.

"Ah, that did the trick.  What do you think of that?"

"I think you did a pretty good job."

"Try this on for size."

After a few seconds, Marlon felt a large, round, cleaved surface on his face, pressing ever harder by the second.  He could have sworn he smelled-

Chocolate?

Oh dear God, it was happening.  He knew exactly what his face was pressed against-that chocolate smell could have only come from one place.  He knew he had to open his eyes-push her away.

But she can cure you if you get anything.

The thought rose from the back of his mind, and he knew immediately that this could be his private paradise.  No one could find him.  He could do whatever he wanted.  It didn't even matter that Luna was an alien; she had human parts down there!  He could never get her pregnant, since he was of a different species; he would leave no trace.  No one would ever know.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME?!?

"What do you want now?"

Should I tell her?

"I wanna open my eyes so I can see that nice p... pussy of yours."

It could have been due to the world's most ironic erection, or the fact that no woman had ever asked him this stuff during foreplay before, but his voice reflected his thoughts perfectly.  How long had it been since this had happened?

30 years?****

"After that?"

"Shove my tongue in it.  Then I'll try for your asshole-maybe it really does taste like chocolate."

"Do you wanna fuck me?"

"Oh yes.  Nice and hard.  Wanna dive deep into that tight hole of yours and make you cum right in my mouth.  What do you say to that, huh?"

"Sounds nice, but could you tell me more?  I'm feeling reallyhorny right now."

"Shove my dick in nice and easy, then go back and forth-back and forth.  Hopefully you'll cum before me so I can drink it-every last drop.  Then I can dive in your asshole and blow my load in it.  Then you can use some spell on me to ready me up again."

"Open your eyes."

Marlon did as he was told, and was pleasantly surprised.

Luna's tail was turned to the right side, and as he retreated from the round, firm cheeks, he could see her face staring back at him dreamily from the left.  When he returned his eyes to their original positions, he found himself staring down the elongated vulva and the large, fragrant butt hole.  Her two hind legs were resting on the arms of his chair, while her couch supported the rest of her body; she had moved it closer.

"You're getting better.  Don't worry.  I'm clean, and you can't get me pregnant or infect me.  Now carry it out, would you?  You don't know how long it's been."

My thoughts exactly.  Music to my ears.

Marlon knew what he had done:  he had just spoken sexually directly in front of Luna.  His inability to see her, combined with his arousal, let him verbally express his desires to her.  The next step would be working on doing it while flaccid, but this gave him a huge confidence boost.

This must be what she does for those teenagers.  Obviously a nymphomaniac.

"What happens to my jizz?  Will I let it out in the bed?"

"No.  You're not bound to your body anymore-only your mind.  It will continue its normal sleeping functions, but everything that happens here has no repercussions elsewhere.  Now dive in; what are you waiting for?"  Luna's tone was anxious, as if she had not been fucked in years.  "Actually, wait.  This will help."

Marlon withdrew his head to find that his legs were growing larger as they had before.

"You might want to get rid of your pants for this next step."

He wriggled out of his boxers and underwear, as his penis glowed blue and increased to a new size:  two inches in width and nine inches long.  Each ball now had a two-inch diameter within his massive scrotum.  Seeing this made him remember-

The pen!  The pen was blue!  Had... had she thought it up?  Have to ask her later.

The thought was soon relocated to the back of his mind for future reference.  For now....

It was her idea, after all.  I'm just playing along....  I'm not about to have sex with an extraterrestrial horse-thing.  It's anthropomorphic....  Oh, why does she have to be so human-like?

His horny brain could try to justify it forever, but there was no denying:  his cock was hard, and an anthropomorphic horse-thing wanted to get it.  Two leaders were about to exchange fluids.

May as well give her what she came for.

Luna's inner vagina held a vague taste of skin, but otherwise was tasteless, like her mouth.  Also like her mouth, it was wet, warm, and inviting.  Her fluids, however, tasted like sugar-water.  He inserted his tongue as far as it would go, savoring every drop of her juices as he sucked and licked and sucked again, pulling her closer with force.  She began to accept his mighty cock into her mouth, first by fondling the head with her tongue, then by using her lips to cover the process.  The appendage showed no sign of softness.  In fact, it was harder than his normal one ever could have been, even as a teenager.

He inserted his right pinky into her ass hole and was astonished at the tightness.  He decided to let his tongue try it, if it indeed was chocolate.

Aw, what the Hell.  It's a dream, right?

His tongue would not go in flat-only rolled up; the hole required much firmness to be penetrated.  A rich, milk-chocolate flavor coated his tongue.

It's real!

He then withdrew his brown tongue and began to rim and suck the hole with vigor, wrapping his arms under her legs and up to her butt cheeks to push it harder against his face.  Lady juice dripped out onto his chest, which he used his finger to collect and drink.

"Hold up, I want to try something.  Stick your tongue out and roll it up, will you?" said Luna expectantly.

He did so, and saw her butt rocking back and forth on his tongue, using it to penetrate her, his nose diving into the ass crack each time.

"Mmmmphh," said Luna quietly.  "Don't worry.  All my stuff's harmless."

After a solid minute of tongue-play, she turned to him and said, "Shove it in me, Richard.  Please.  Just position me however you'd like."  Her voice was slightly exhausted, but excited at the same time.

Well, I'm gonna do it.  No point in turning back now.

He positioned her above his member, facing away from him.

"This one's called 'the Reverse Cowgirl:'  one of my... personal favorites," Marlon said.  "Now bounce up and down a little."

She lowered onto the penis using her body weight to overcome the intense tightness.  Marlon wondered how long he would last; this was better than any girl he had ever had.  She eventually was able to rest her cheeks on his hips, and began to move her rear in small circles, rubbing his lower body warmly.  Her tail moved over to lay on his chest, and he was surprised at what he felt.

Nothing.

The tail had no texture.  He moved his hand to touch it, but it went right through as if through air.  However, he did begin to notice that the area it covered was slightly warmer than the room.

Luna began to slowly move up and down, her juices functioning as a hot lubricant.  Her orifice held a death-grip on Marlon's re-sized appendage, and he felt close to ejaculating after four thrusts.

"I think I'm gonna splooge."

"Oh, come on. You can go for longer than that," said Luna as Marlon's penis glowed blue again.  The urge to splooge was alleviated, as he felt as if he had just started.

"Thanks.  I needed that."

Luna began to let gravity pull her large body back down each time, resulting in pounding thrusts.  Marlon could feel his tongue beginning to hang out of his mouth.  She eventually stopped dead and lifted off, placing her sphincter over the wet rod.  She dropped down with full force, sending Marlon into the tightest hole he had ever been in.

"OH DEAR GOD!!" he exclaimed.  "I'm not sure how long I'll go for in here!"

"As long as you'd like," she said.  She began to rub and twist around at the base as she had done before, then pounded her ass on his cock repeatedly.  Up and down again and again with force easily described as deadly.  If it weren't for his magic, blue-glowing penis, he would have jizzed upon insertion.  He grabbed her cheeks for support, resting the palms on the white moon-shapes on each side in their black blotches.  With his added hand-power, the experience became more heavenly and more unbearable at the same time.

"OK, seriously.  I'm going to let fly!"

"Come on-just one more position?  Please?"

The blue glow around his cock was of a deeper shade, having an increased magical effect.  She stopped and turned her head to him.

"Try this one," she said as she lifted off and positioned herself on the ground, face down and ass up.  Doggy style.  Or anthropomorphic horse thing-y style.

Marlon got up and began to slap her cheeks with the sepia-stained cock, then grabbed her cheeks and slammed it past the vulva.

"OOHH!" Luna said loudly.

As he rocked back and forth, pulling her ass back to meet his hips each time, her moans became greater.

"OOOOOOHHHH!  Oh!  Oh!  OOOhhhh!  WhooAAHHH!!"

"BUST IT IN MY ASS!!  GO!  GO!  GOOO!!!" she screamed.  Marlon dove his dick into the sphincter, having to pull her ass back to get it in at all.  He began to thrust forcefully and slowly, like a pile driver, and the glowing around his penis stopped.  He felt the orgasm coming from the base of the dick, and he knew to brace himself.

"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH YYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!" screamed Luna.

Marlon's eyes crossed and his tongue hung out, unable to speak or even moan at what followed.

He was graced with the hottest, heaviest orgasm he had ever felt.  He thrust himself in forcefully to help it out, which made the feeling all the more great.  He felt as if someone had taken the world's strongest vise grip and applied it to his forelegs, cranking it to a full clamp.  Like a volcano, he let out the mightiest blast of semen he had ever emitted, and the clamping lasted for more than a minute, growing stronger with every second.  His mind was screaming for it to stop, but his penis thought otherwise.  With each thrust, a hose-worth of jizz came along.  Luna began to scream again as her anus tightened even more, and a downpour of watery juice fell from her vulva with a huge splash on the floor, as if dumped from a bucket.

"ONE MORE TIME!" she screamed as both their parts glowed blue.  "Quick!  Get under me!"

Marlon dropped down so that they were in a 69 position.  Luna rested herself on top of him, her legs folded on the ground for support.  Once again, the violent urge came as they sucked the opposing genitalia.

"AAAAAACCCCCHHHHHH!!!!" screamed Luna as Marlon set his lips around her vaginal opening (Fortunately, the jizz was cleaned out by the magic.).  The hot, sugary liquid spewed forth into his mouth and onto his face as her legs contracted and began to squeeze his head.  The vise grip ensued upon him, and Luna's cheeks puffed out in an attempt to hold the massive volume of white gel.  Some dripped from her mouth onto Marlon's balls.  She stared back at him, and with a massive gulp, swallowed the whole lot of it.  He did the same with hers, relishing every drop as it filled his stomach.  She quickly turned around and made her mouth glow, which eliminated the residue from her lips and mouth.  She lay on top of him and tongue-kissed him, placing his penis in her vagina until his boner departed.  They rolled on the floor and cherished each others' body heat for what seemed like hours, until Luna said, "I hope I'll see you tomorrow night, Richard."

"I think our races will get along just fine."

They continued to kiss.

Part I: The Landing (ABC-7 Broadcast-5/16)

Part I: The Landing (ABC-7 Broadcast-5/16)

"Our top story tonight:  the eternal question of 'Are we alone?' was answered yesterday morning, as a massive U.F.O. descended upon D.C. and rested on the Washington Monument.  President Marlon gave the order for the army to, quote, 'ask questions first, shoot later.'  This decision has sparked a small amount of controversy among some citizens, since they believe the aliens to be a potential threat, but the president seems to harbor no such fear.  He gave this speech earlier this morning regarding his plan for alien assimilation."

The screen showed a clip of Marlon's speech.  The low angle from which the footage was shot made Marlon vaguely resemble a dictator.

"Ironically, he could not be reached for a further interview, but advised anyone curious to 'watch his latest D.C. Unveiled episode.'

And now we go live to Vlad Grenovsky, outside the White House.  Hello, Vlad,"

Vlad waited a few seconds before beginning, due to the cue lag.

"Hi, Leon," the thin, blond-haired man said in a tired voice with a light Russian accent.  He was directly in front of the gates, with the people, ponies, and army guys settin' up stuff behind him.  Floodlights cast a harsh, white glare across the lawn.  Celestia could vaguely be seen under the tree to Vlad's left, but her figure was blurred by the camera's spot-focus.

"As you can see here, this massive crowd doesn't show any signs of letting up, and people are swarming from across the country to get a front-row view of the aliens.  The aliens are known to be refugees from the planet Equestria, which was presumably destroyed."

"Have you been able to talk to any of the aliens yet?"

Vlad paused.

"No, the camera crew and I have been trying to call a few over for an interview, but the crowd's too loud out here.  The guards have been ordered to not let anyone inside unless specifically requested."

"That's quite a shame, Vlad.  It'd be nice to get their comments."

Pause.

"Indeed it would.  We're waiting for possible clearance, but the president hasn't been reachable tonight.  Hopefully-"

From the corner of the screen, Celestia turned her head toward the camera.  Her horn began to glow.

"Oooh!" said the crowd, nearly in unison.

The cameraman turned the camera to face Celestia as Vlad began, facing Celestia as well:  "That's Celestia, one of their leaders.  That glow around her horn means that she's literally performing mag-AAHH!!"  Vlad screamed.  Both he and the cameraman were standing directly in front of Celestia, holding the same poses they had held outside the gate.  Vlad fell back in shock, and the cameraman stumbled in the same direction.  The ponies nearby shuffled away.  Some crowd members screamed in terror; most blared out expressions of awe.  The camera flashes came more rapidly.

"What was that about comments?  I've got time." said Celestia.

"H-how did you hear tha-"

"Get outta here!" yelled a guard.

"It's OK," Celestia called back.  "He's with me!"

"Nobody gets in without Marlon's orders!"

"I think he'd understand!"

"Marlon's orders only!  Get 'em outta here!"

"Sorry, guys," said Celestia sadly to the two men.  "I would normally hypnotize him to change his mind, but it might look threatening on TV.  I don't want him to pull out his gun, either.  I'll tell Marlon to let you guys in sometime, OK?"

"Uh, th-thanks," said Vlad, picking himself up.  He had no sooner stood upright than fallen down from shock again, since the two men were teleported back outside the gate.  Once again, expressions of shock and awe.

"WHAT'D IT FEEL LIKE?" screamed someone from the crowd.

"N-nothing," Vlad said, standing upright again.  "It didn't feel like anything!  I was here one second and in there the next!"  He was still dumbstruck by what the extraterrestrial had done to him.  Multiple shouts of "I WANNA TRY!" rang from the crowd.

"Vlad, are you OK?" asked Leon from the background.  Vlad faced the camera again.  No pause this time.

"Yes, I'm fine.  As I said, it didn't actually feel like anything.  On the plus side, she'll try to make a question-answering appointment!"

"Excellent!"

"I'm... Vlad Grenovsky, for ABC-7 News."

"Thank you for that... interesting experience," said Leon.  "We hope to hear more soon.

In other news, is the C.I.A. holding a grudge?  Recent reports show multiple firings of lower-ranking officials after large amounts of fully return-addressed hate-mail were received by a science lab in Maryland...."

Part I: The Landing (Chapter VI)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter VI)

Let's take a breath-jump over the side

-Coldplay, What If

Had it not been for the Great Political Reform of '95, Marlon's job would have been far more pain-in-the-ass-ier.  The old president had decided to gather the (few) smart members from each of the government branches to decide on which organizations were unnecessary to the upkeep of a national power.  It was an attempt to revert back to the political simplicity of early America, so that a massive amount of red tape and bullshit could be eliminated.  In addition, a brutally strict ethics test would be required of all candidates for national office.  The tests would be administrated by the president and would change for each candidate, so as to prevent fraud.  Candidates would also be screened for mental illness genes, and their strength of religious affiliation would only hurt their application.  The plan would be added as a new Amendment to the Constitution.  By a chance as slim as a quark, the damn thing actually passed.  Not a lot of argument, either.  "It was one of those rare terms in which there was an extreme seat leaning in Congress," some experts say.*

The five men sat in the meeting room silently.  The antique, wooden table they sat at reflected their dull faces back at them.  One of the men was rolling his tongue around the inside of his lower lip; he stared at the odd reflection to entertain himself.  They thought about what to say to Marlon about the elephant in the room-or, on the lawn.  One thought of killing them all; one thought of squeezing answers out and then killing them all; one thought of beating his current record of how far down he could reach his tongue into his wife's pussy; and another thought of going ahead with Marlon's current plan.  The last was a man of about forty, named Loren Urjin.  To friends, he was "Urj."  To enemies, he was, "Lurch," since it sounded nastier.  Both names played on his surname, which sounded similar to "urchin."  His personality was comparable to an urchin, as well.  Most saw his mind and temper as needle-sharp, and he could easily deflect any predators (such as conservative congressmen, salesmen, unruly minorities, you name it).  His large nose, premature white hair, thin eyes, and perfectly rectangular head made him appear, to many, as Bill Maher's evil brother.  His alien plan was similar to Marlon's, but with a different twist.  He believed it would keep everybody, and everypony, happy.

Marlon was exactly eleven-no, twelve minutes late, and the men grew restless.  They aimlessly fidgeted in their seats-often stretching, often tapping the table, often clicking pens, often playing invisible double-bass pedals with their feet.  Each found the shape of his watch's buttons and bezel to be quite interesting.

Marlon pushed down the J-handle with his elbow and pushed the door in with his foot.  He carried a large box in front of him.  He set it on the table and opened it.

"Plenty to go 'round," he said as the men grabbed for the chocolate-iced, sprinkled donuts inside.  He placed a laptop bag on the floor next to his chair.  "Sorry about being late; I just got back from another meeting, and the donuts needed a little more time to bake than usual."

Nobody said anything; their mouths were too full to speak.

Marlon sat down and began:  "Well, here we are.  First human contact with aliens, and it gets to be in our country's capital; pretty cool, huh?"

No one spoke.  Their mouths were empty now.  Marlon grew nervous.

"Look, I'm trying to lighten the mood.  I'm not sure what everybody's feeling right now, since we've... ya know... never done this before.  We're shooting blind as a race.  I like to think that I made a good decision by allowing them to live, but that's one man's opinion.  It'd be nice to hear from you on what you think a second stage should be.  Don't be afraid to criticize the current plan, either; it's OK to be frank in here."

Silence.  Then:  "I'm not sure if we should allow them to live any longer."

"Why do you think so?" asked Marlon, trying not to sound condescending like some sort of child psychologist.

"Well.... they could be planning something.  I know they seem nice, but... you can never be too careful."

"OK, OK.  And how do you propose we kill them (I'm hearing you out here)."

"They're on the lawn now; shoot the leaders first, then mow down the others.  We can't risk anything."

"I agree with him," said another.  "Except we should get the answers out of them first.  Before they go, we need to find out how we can harness this 'magic' stuff.  It can revolutionize human life as we know it."

"But it can also be used as a weapon.  Wouldn't it be dangerous in the wrong hands?" retaliated Marlon.

"Well, then we only give it to the right hands.  High-powered lasers can be dangerous, but we don't go giving those out willy-nilly do we?"

"Who says it's even possible for humans to harness it?"

"We could build a machine.  It's not possible for humans to harness sawblades from their arms, but we have machines that allow us to use sawblades....  For example."

"This is a whole different area of physics, though.  Actually, it kinda defies physics."

"It's starting to seem pretty futile to argue my opinion like this if you keep trying to shoot it down."

"I'm not saying your opinion is bad.  I'll take all of these into consideration.  I'm only trying to figure out if each plan is really foolproof.  There are factors that could stymie (when's the last time you heard that word?) any of these plans.  There are nearly all-powerful leaders, slightly less powerful unicorns, and pegasi that, if they can fly fast enough, can pull an Osama on us."

"Is there some sort of material their magic can't affect?"

"Why would you think there would be?"

"I saw it on TV with my kids once.  The magical bad guy only has one material he can't affect.  It's like a milder version of kryptonite to him....  Don't judge me, this is one of those one-in-a-billion coincidences where it actually might work."

"Interesting.  So you think we should build an interrogation room out of whatever material that is, then interrogate them in it?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure how I would ask them about weaknesses, though.  They would get suspicious."

"That's where your plan comes in.  We need to build trust first, so it seems like nothing's wrong."

Marlon was sure not to tell them where that information (if it existed) could really be found without asking.  Twilight's anatomy books would have to be kept secret from prying eyes.  The R.R.F. could be trusted with them; they were harmless scientists-not hostile politicians.

"I'm fine with it," said another.

"Fine with what?" replied Marlon.

"The current plan.  Keep it as it is, I say.  I think it'll work for everybody."

"O, most gracious of replies," joked Marlon.

"Wattif...," began Urj in his heavy New York accent, "we go alawng wit'is playen, 'cept we make a few changes."**

"Like what?" asked Marlon, slightly terrified at what the evil (yet extremely high-I.Q.'ed) Bill Maher clone had to say.

"Hoo says we gotta live wit'em?  Dis 'complex,' as ya cawl it, should be isolated from da'restudda cidy.  We cud send a few udda humans in deya ta live wit'em, ya know, ta make nice an' stuff, bududdadan dat, we shud just leev'm'aloan."

"You mean... isolate them from the rest of the human race?"

"Exayactlee.  Just bildiddonda owtskirts'a town.  Maybe somweeya in da ugly pardudda city-to make it awl nice ag'en.  We cud still giv'em jawbs an awl, but keep'em away from da world.  Ya know, sice dere're all doze guys who're awl hostel to 'em.  We gawta protect 'em, see?  Dis ain't fa' racism poipusses uh nuttin.  I was tinkin we cud cawl it 'District P,' wheyre da' 'P' stayands fa' 'Pony.'"

"That's a nice idea.  I like that part about keeping them safe from the hostile people.  I like it, Urj, but I think we should use that as a backup plan, if the whole society part doesn't work out."

"OK, yer da' baws."

"Are you sure this will pass congress, Rich?  I know you sounded sure, but you can never be too careful with them.  You've gotta word this thing so that it's completely foolproof," piped in the pussy man.

"And why didn't you just use an executive order?" asked the get-info-out-of-'em man.

"Because this is a massive project, and I wanted to be able to get some opinions from you guys first.  And from congress.  Who knows?  They may give some helpful insights, too."

"So you want us to help you write the bill?"

"Yes.  Normally, I'd have a pretty good idea myself, but something like this has never been done before, and some of you guys know how to put the words in on the unknown stuff better than I do.  We have to build this thing together."

Marlon pulled out his super-duper-ultra-top-secret laptop and placed it on the desk.  He rapidly typed a plethora of security codes, then opened his super-duper-ultra-top-secret edition of Microsoft Word.

He began with the title:  "Project P."

Part I: The Landing (Chapter VII)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter VII)

Please tell me why my car is in the front yard

And I'm sleeping with my clothes on

-Lit, My Own Worst Enemy

Nitro had been sent away on some sort of "secret" mission.  Texan and Key, however, were two of the army guys (now promoted to sergeants) settin' up stuff.  At the moment, both were installing incandescent string lights to the rafters in one of the temporary shelters.  The lighting choice seemed informal, but Melski had passed down the order as an act of kindness.  Being too close to fire could render multiple alien hairdos (especially the creepy-ass wavy one) ablaze, and floodlights might be too bright for 'em to sleep by.  Well sure, we could turn 'em off, but how would they find the port-o-shits at night?  A soldier with a really bright flashlight might wake 'em all up.  Let's just make the lights nice and comforting so that the others can sleep while one of 'em's takin' a choco-shit.  Got it?

Other men were placing mattresses on double-stacked bunk beds (and king-sizes on the ground for the leaders) along the building's inner sides, and the port-o-shits made up a surreal line* on the left side, beginning at the front end.  The executives at Don's Johns must have been proud.  Beige canvas had been fastened to the walls and ceiling prior to the building's furnishing in order to alleviate the harsh reflections of the lights on the steel walls.  Had the room been painted black, the dim lights would have given the place a Birchmere-esque atmosphere.

Celestia was using her magic to test the lock on the first port-o-shit.  She watched the small sign above the knob turn from "vacant" to "occupied" with curiosity from the other side of the building's front.  The front wall had not yet been fastened on, so she could still poke her head in without obstructing anyone's path.

"Have you ever used one of those before?" asked Key.  He was standing on a ladder, hanging the last piece of the string of lights near the front of the building.  He asked nervously, since this leader could easily not like him and shove her horn up his ass, but he had been considering making conversation in order to win her over.  This way, he would be considered a "friend" and be one of the last to die if the aliens became power-hungry.

"No, but I can imagine what they're used for, based on the context of your conversations," Celestia replied, her eyes fixed on that curved sign which currently read, "occupied."

"Try the door," Key said with a slight tint of humor in his low, monotone voice.

Celestia twisted the knob to "vacant," figuring that the door would be unlocked with nobody inside.  She caused the door to glow and gently opened it.

"Hm.  I was right."

"I'm guessing you had toilets like ours back on your home planet?"

"Yes, but they weren't in boxes like this."

"Neither are ours-not usually, at least.  These are portable ones, though.  They don't flush."

"So somebody just empties them out manually?"

"That's about right," Key said as he began to climb down the ladder.

"But isn't that unsanitary?  To have it lie around like that?"

"One would think so," he said as he reached the ground, "but the container it's in is strong-blocked from the outside world."  He stared up at the alien which was much more terrifying from ground-level.

Come on, Kevin.  Don't puss out.

"They're a bit small.  I hope the normal-sized ponies can fit in them."

"Oh, sure they can.  If I can fit in one, they can.  I'm sorry we couldn't get a bigger one for you.  The orders never specified larger ones to be installed."

"Probably because they knew I could do this," Celestia said.  She caused the previously-interesting box to expand to the ceiling and a few feet to the right, while two adjacent ones thinned to inch-widths with glow-power.  One of the legs of Texan's ladder had been pushing against one of these, and was shoved harshly to the side by the motion.  Celestia caused Texan to levitate before he could hit the ground, then turned him upright.  He breathed heavily with disbelief.

"Sorry about that.  I'll finish those lights for you, if you don't mind."  The dangling wire of the string of lights parallel to Key's was lifted up with a glow and gently wrapped around the final rafter.  The final anchoring screws were levitated and twisted into place.  All of the army guys were staring with amazement.

"Th.. thanks.  Could...n't you have just helped with the lights before?"

"Well, I wasn't sure how you wanted them to be set up, and none of you ever asked.  After watching the rest of the lights be set up, though, I figured this is how you wanted them to be finished."

"Well, you were... r... right."

The three port-o-shits glowed and returned to their normal sizes.

"Or I could do this, if it's more convenient," Celestia said.  She began to shrink until she was only five feet tall, with her needle-sharp horn reaching to six.

"Yeah, definitely more convenient," said Texan as he walked over to help the other army guys with the beds.

Rarity, Dashie, AppleJack, and Fluttershy** were sitting upright against the tree.  They resembled bored kids on a scalding summer day.  None of them knew where Spike was; they hadn't seen him in quite a while.  They figured he was hanging out with some of his other pony-friends.  Rarity had decided (amidst a barrage of "why didn't you do that earlier; my ears are killing me"'s from Dashie) to construct an invisible, soundproof dome around the tree so that they could converse more easily.

"There she goes," began Dashie humorously, regarding Celestia's interaction with the army guys, "scarin' the livin' shit outta the humans.  It's fun to watch her do that."

"I feel sorry for them, though," said Fluttershy.  "I hate to see them afraid."

"Ah, what does it matter, Flutters?  They'll get over it.  We all get over fears."

"I suppose," she said quietly.

"So AppleJack, what is the Luna treatment?" asked Rarity.

"Ah don't really wanna talk 'bout it.  It ain't important to ya," replied AppleJack.

"Are you sure?  You seemed a bit nervous after Celestia told you it was true."

"Yeah, we're your friends, AJ.  We can help ya alleviate the guil-I mean 'fear,'" added Dashie.

"But it don't matter none 'bout ya, see?  An' ah ain't scared fer mahself, nayther."

"Who're ya scared for, AJ?"

"That Marlon guy.  Can't imagine what's goin' threw his hayed."

"Wanna try?  Could help."

"OK, fahn, Ah'll tell ya, Dash, Ah'll tell ya.  Didn't wanna get y'all scared'er nuthin'.  'T's why ah wusn't talkin."

"Do proceed, darling; you've got me curious," said Rarity.

"W... well...," AppleJack began.  A slight red blush poked through her orange-shaded cheeks.  "Y'all remember th' tahm wen Big Mac wus walkin' 'round town lookin' lahk a milyun bits?"

"Yeah, I think I do.  Wasn't he datin' Cheerilee?" asked Dashie.

"Naw, naw, that uther tahm.  Few munths b'fore we left."

"Can you elaborate, darling?  I'm not sure I recall it," said Rarity.

"I remember," said Fluttershy quietly.  This caused Dashie and Rarity to stare at her.  AppleJack had a "thank 'Tia ah don't hafta'xplain this bah mahself" expression on her face.

"Something about his eyes was different from the time he dated Cheerilee.  He wasn't skipping, either."

"Oh yeah, I remember that.  That skipping was hilarious," reminisced Dashie.

"I never spoke to him much.  I don't remember the difference between his usual and unusual habits," said Rarity.

"Well, I've seen it hundreds of times before.  It's completely different than any expression he would normally wear," Fluttershy elaborated.

"...And?" asked Dashie.

From the outside, Celestia, now back to her normal size, stared at the ponies under the tree.  She did not need to hear the conversation; she could read Fluttershy's lips:  The animals at home got that expression after they... reached orgasm.  Luna had sex with him, they said.  Celestia's pupils, unbeknownst to her, contracted to pinpoint sizes.

They know already?

The dome-encased ponies' pupils did the same.

"On... the... first... NIGHT?" Dashie nervously said.

"Shur seems that way," AppleJack replied gravely.  "It musta made a terr'ble ferst 'mpreshun."

"Why would she do that?  And even if you could give me a reason, WHY ON THE FIRST NIGHT?!"

"Ah ain't shur.  But y'all've herd them storys, raht?  Looks lahk thay're trew."

"Dear, it seems a bit far-fetched," Rarity said, denying the whole thing.

"Don't act like you haven't heard the stories, Rarity.  I knew a couple pegasi who were talkin' about it when I was younger, but I never thought she'd really have that obsession."

"What should we do?" asked Fluttershy.

"Dunno.  Ah ain't sure how thees folks handle this stuff.  'F they like sex, we're fahn.  'F they don't, all us'r bucked... hard."

"How should we find out what he thinks about it?" asked Rarity.

"Dunno.  'F we confrunt'im 'bout it, he's gunna feal real awkwerd-like."

"But if she already did him, what's he gonna care if we know?  We're not humans; we're not gonna toss him outta society," Dashie replied.

"Should we ask Celestia?" asked Fluttershy quietly.  She felt slightly guilty about bearing the news.

"We can't ask her!  This is her sister we're talkin' about!  No idea what she'd do if she found out her sister was a nymphomaniac!"

Celestia walked over to the tree.  She had been reading the ponies' lips for most of the conversation, and was surprised that Dashie and Rarity had no idea.  The dome made a slight "zzz" noise as Celestia stepped through.

"Oh, hi, Celestia!" began Dashie.  "We were just talkin' bout that Marlon guy.  Swell fella, eh?"

Celestia sighed.

"Something wrong?" asked Rarity.

"Technically no, but I just have to say one thing, since I've been reading your lips."

The four ponies gazed up at the now-intimidating, anthropomorphic horse-thing.

"AppleJack's right.  Marlon did, indeed, get the Luna treatment."

The pupils contracted once more.

"Why on the first night?" Dashie asked.  She was quite fixated on the whole "first night" aspect of the situation.

"Well, I can't say for sure, since he was in a dream when it happened, but I think it has something to do with the fact that Marlon told her about his... psychological problem."

"How'd she squeeze it out of him?  The info... I mean," asked Dashie.

"Once again, I can't say for sure.  But if any of you have seen her in your dreams, you'll know how good she is at that."

The ponies looked at each other; they knew Luna's methods.  She would take an inverted approach to make you want to tell her your problems.

"Do you think they're gonna kill us?" asked Dashie nervously.  This was a rare event for the rest of the group:  seeing their most headstrong friend in a mild state of panic.

"I doubt it.  And besides, even if they wanted to, they'd go for Luna first.  I talked to Marlon about it this morning, and he seems OK with it."

"How can you be sure he wasn't lying to be nice?"

"There was something about his eyes that conveyed sincerity; it's something I've picked up on over all my time as a princess.  These creatures really aren't that different from us... personality-wise."

Fluttershy silently congratulated herself for making a statement about animals that other ponies could relate to.

"You'll be fine, Rainbow Dash; I can assure you.  Mister Marlon's a nice human; he wouldn't want to hurt you."

"I sure hope you're right," Dashie said, as she adopted a cat-like resting position with her chin resting on her right foreleg.  She still looked nervous.

"So now what?  If you... don't mind me asking," asked Fluttershy.

"Well, hopefully, the hormones in his brain from the dream-sex should lighten his mood.  In a way, Luna's attraction to him is a good thing."

"Oh, I do hope you're right about this," said Rarity.

"She's happy; he's happy; it's a win-win situation," Celestia said as she adopted the same position as Dashie.  "I hope."

Spike was playing blackjack with the C.M.C. under another tree on the lawn, facing away from the crowd (which, after approximately three hours, had not stopped taking pictures).  Sweetie had put up a soundproof dome long before Rarity had gotten the idea.

"Bust," said Scootaloo bitterly.  "Twenty-two."

"A-teen," said AppleBloom.

"Eleven," said Sweetie.

Spike placed his two cards face-down on the ground, the turned them over one at a time for a dramatic effect:  a midnight sun (Celestia's cutie mark painted black-equivalent to an ace of spades***) and a ten.

"Didn't even need a hit," Spike mused.

Scootaloo faceplanted lightly, then sighed hard.  "What is that, the fifth time?" she said, though her voice was muffled by grass and dirt.

"Eighth," he replied smugly.

"Can y'all deal up a new game?  This'un's gettin' tough," said AppleBloom.

"Why would I do that?  I'm on a streak here!"

"Yeah, but ya get the same cards every time!  How do we know y'all ain't cheatin'?"

"Oh come on, AppleBloom; have a little more faith in me," Spike said calmly with an obvious hint of sarcasm.  "I wouldn't cheat; I just get lucky from time to time."

"But this one's a little boring.  Can we play that one my sister taught me?" asked Sweetie.

"Ooh!  Yeah!  That's a good one!  Let's play that!" added Scootaloo.

"But you need chips for that one, and we don't have any.  For mine, chips aren't totally required."

"Ya mean like these?" Scootaloo asked as she held up a stack of white, red, green, and black poker chips, identical to the ones used on Earth.

"Where did you get those?" asked Spike.

"Get what?"

"The chips."

"What chips?"

"The ones that you're holding."

"Sweetie gave 'em to me."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Where did she get them?"

"Her sister made them."

"Rarity doesn't make plastic stuff."

"She wanted to try something new."

"Sweetie!  Did Rarity really make those?"

"Mm-Hmm!" Sweetie replied as she nodded her head, eyes closed with the lids raised in arcs.

"OK, fine, but where were you keeping them?"

"When?" asked Scootaloo.  Unbeknownst to the four of them, but "knownst" to Marlon when he heard about the exchange later, the conversation greatly resembled the one between John Candy and Macaulay Culkin in Uncle Buck.

"Before you brought them out."

"When was that?  I bring them out a lot."

"Just a few seconds ago."

"They were in AppleBloom's hair."

"Why would you put them in there?"

"Because my ass can't hold anything else."

The expression on Spike's face was simultaneously terrified and bewildered; he looked as if he had just jizzed in his metaphorical pants.  Scootaloo dropped the chips as she rolled back and laughed hysterically.

"Y-you shoulda seen your face!" she said between heavy guffaws.

"Please tell me you weren't serious about that ass thing."

"Oh, n-no way.  I just wanted to s-see your face!" she said.  Her laughter had died down slightly, but picked up again when she reached "face."

Spike maintained a flat expression until Scootaloo finally stopped.

"Ya done?"

"Yeah, I th-think so."  One last chuckle.

Sweetie used her magic power to deal out chips and cards.

"Hey, what're ya doing?" Spike protested.

"You weren't doing anything at the moment, so I thought I would set up my game."

"How are you even doing that while you've got that force-field up?"

"I've been doing a little studying on multiple-spell spells; I think I've got it down pretty good.  I got the idea from Twilight."

Spike remembered his purple companion and turned to the right, to see the tree Celestia was under.  His eyesight had been a little dull lately, since he had taken AppleBloom's dare last week to rub lime halves in his eyes,

Evil bitch!

but he could make out that something was wrong by the way Celestia was sitting.  She almost never took Dashie's pose.

"I think something's up," said Spike, while staring at Celestia.

"Don't try excuses now, Spike.  You'll love this game, just try it!" said Sweetie enthusiastically.

"Seriously.  Something's wrong with Celestia."

"Really?" asked Scootaloo before turning her head to the princess.  "She looks OK to me."

"But the way her head's positioned; it doesn't seem normal.  I think she's worried about something."

"She's probably worried about our new lives here.  Toss in your blind bet, wouldja?" asked Scootaloo impatiently.

"I'm gonna go over and see if everything's OK," Spike said.  The force-field made a small "zzz" sound as he walked out.  The flashes of light grew more frequent around the purple dragon as he walked to the other tree.  He stopped to wave to the crowd, then continued on his merry way.

"Wimp," said Scootaloo as she placed two white chips next to the main deck.

"Everything OK, Celestia?" Spike asked as he walked into the next force-field with a "zzz" and sat down.

"Yes, everything's fine.  How are you, Spike?  I haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh, it's been OK.  I've been playin' cards with the C.M.C. for a while.  So you're just trying that resting position now?  I've never seen you do that."

"It's actually more comfortable than it looks.  I think I'll use it more often."

"It's contagious," added Dashie.

Something's wrong.  Your eyes and position are making it obvious, Spike thought.  He sat down against the tree to look inconspicuous while he attempted to think with Celestia.

SPIKE, HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A 'LUNA TREATMENT?'  Her thought-voice was slightly exhausted.

No.  Can you describe it?

Celestia's thought-voice sighed, then began:  HOW DID IT WIND UP THAT I'M TELLING EVERYPONY THIS?

You don't have to tell me if you don't want to; I just want to see if I can help you feel better.  Twilight's not around, so I may as well help you with your feelings.

WELL, IT DOESN'T IMMEDIATELY CONCERN ME.

If that's the case, I'll guess it's about Marlon, 'cause he's the only one here you've really been talkin' to.  But why would you be scared about something called a Luna tr... OOOOooohhhhhhhhh, so THAT's what a Luna treatment is.

YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS?

Well, I've never heard it called by that name, but I'm guessing it's something like a Blue Cream Dream.

Celestia's face bulged ever so slightly, indicating the forcing down of a laugh.

"Anypony find it weird that none of us noticed Spike over there?" Dashie asked her friends.

"Oh, not at all, dearie.  See, I've taken up the habit of using my lateral neck muscles as little as possible when not necessary; it'll reduce wrinkling when I'm older," said Rarity in her usual pompous-yet-grounded tone.

"What crackpot told ya that?"

"Ahem....  I hardly consider my mother a 'crackpot.'  She used her neck muscles all the time recreationally, and look how wrinkly she turned out to be!"

"I don't remember your mom bein' that wrinkly at all, Rarity.

As the blue and white anthropomorphic horse things argued about how hideously wrinkled Rarity's mother was, Spike thought, So Luna went inside his dream and-

AFRAID SO.

Now what?

I CAN'T SAY I'M SURE.  THIS HAS NEVER HAD THE POTENTIAL TO BECOME A REAL PROBLEM BEFORE.

Who says it will become a problem?  What if he totally digs it?

HE SAID HE DIDN'T MIND, BUT... I'M SCARED FOR HIM, I SUPPOSE.

What's there to be scared about?

NOTHING, AT THE MOMENT, BUT WHO KNOWS WHAT MY SISTER WILL DO TO HIM NEXT?  HE'LL BE AT THE MERCY OF HER DREAM-MAGIC.

Can't she just rewire his dream-brain to like everything?

SHE HAS A HARD TIME DIRECTLY CONTROLLING EMOTIONS.  TOTAL HYPNOSIS IS A STRONGER MAGIC THAN YOU WOULD THINK.  SHE HASN'T HAD AS MUCH PRACTICE WITH IT AS I HAVE.

But what do you care if he eventually stops liking it?

I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T, BUT I'M NOT SURE IF MY SISTER WILL LISTEN TO ANYPONY WHEN SHE'S ORDERED TO CALM IT DOWN.  MARLON COULD EVENTUALLY DREAD SLEEPING ALTOGETHER.

Well, if ya ask me, I don't think there's anything to worry about.  He'll be totally fine.

BUT IF HE DOES EVENTUALLY STOP LIKING IT, WON'T THAT IMPACT HIS VIEW OF OUR RACE?

Forgive me for saying this, but you're starting to sound like Twilight.  How could he hate a whole race based on one pony?

Celestia stopped thinking outwardly.  Spike turned to see AppleJack and Fluttershy keeping quiet.  Neither of them felt qualified to talk about this, or Rarity's mom.

See ya later, Celestia.

BYE, SPIKE, Celestia thought.  Spike could still hear nervousness in her tone of voice.  He would have normally considered it his imagination, but with Celestia's voice being emitted behind his ears, there was little possibility of interference from outside .

Spike walked over to the orange and yellow ponies and leaned back against the tree beside them.  The three had a front-row seat to the performance of the army guys putting the finishing touches on the shelters.

"How's it hangin', Flutters?" the purple dragon asked.

"It's OK, but everypony's so tense about Marlon.  Still, it's nice to know that they care about him."

"What do you think about it?"

"I'm not sure.  I've never been in this situation before.  When I see the animals doing it, they never get this wound up."

"Ew.  You regularly watch that?"

"No, but occasionally I'll stumble upon two of them when I come home earlier than scheduled.  It's no biggie, really.  I know it's natural."

"Well, I don't like to watch anything doin' it but me."

AppleJack quietly chuckled.

"I heard that!" Spike blurted out.

"Aw, it ain't nuthin', sugarcube.  I's just remembrin' a funny joke's all."

Spike knew what she was laughing at; he wasn't stupid.  She was laughing about the pillow.  She had seen it once, and had never let him live it down.  The pillow with a crude drawing of Rarity's face taped to the front and a hole cut in the lower back.  Spike regretted ever making the damn thing.  AppleJack had been pulling jokes for months now in normal conversation:  Hey Spahke, what's goin' down?  You're a real head case, ya know?  No need ta tape up yer vict'ries.  Shut up'r I'll have y'all drawn and quart'rd.

What a BITCH!

"L... let's change the subject," Spike began.

Try pullin' a joke NOW!

"How's Twi?  Haven't seen her in a while."

"She's down at some science-y lab'r sum'n.  Been there fer hours.  Think she's a might likin' it there."

"What makes you say that?"

"She sent a note sayin' she didn't wanna come back wi'Marlon; wanted to stay there awhile with Pinkie."

"Makes sense that Twilight'd be stayin' there, but why Pinkie?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but it's-a lookin' like Pinkie's all hyped up about feelin' important'n such.  She's mounted-

Oh, ffffffffffFUCK you!

-the science-y bandwagon wi'Twahlahght."

"Hm.  Wonder what they're up to?  Did you get any indication of what they'd been doin'?"

"Ah ain't quite sure; her note didn't say much.  Said somethin' about that 'chocolate' stuff."

"What's chocolate?"

"Y'all didn't hear Marlon talk 'bout it on th'air?"

"I was half-asleep through most of it."

"Er thinkin' bout the pillow,"  AppleJack said under her breath.

"I HEARD THAT!" Spike exclaimed quietly, but with force.

Dammit!  She knows!

OH, RELAX, SPIKE.  THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH IT.

Oh, not you, too!  I thought you weren't listening to me anymore!

I WASN'T, BUT I GOT BORED.

Got bored?  Since when do you get bored?  You can listen to other ponies' minds, too.

WELL, YES, BUT THEIR THOUGHTS WERE SCARED AND DEPRESSING, AND I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE REFRESHING TO LISTEN TO SOME THAT WERE LIGHTER IN NATURE.  SOFTER, LIKE A... PILLOW.

Spike looked over to Celestia.  Still in that pose, staring at the army guys.  The voice behind his ears began to laugh.

Aw, come on, Celestia!

TH... THERE'S NOTH-*HA* NOTHING WRONG WITH IT.  IT'S PERFE-PERFECTLY NA-*HA*-NATURAL.

Who told you?!  Who told you?!

NOT-*HA*-NOT IMPORTANT.  I-I'M SORRY FOR LA-*HA*-LAUGHING.  I JUST COULDN'T BELIEVE IT WHEN I HEARD!

Spike knew that AppleJack would never spill a secret like that; she would prefer to keep the joke to herself to make it all the more sadistically humorous.  The only pony obsessive enough to get the dirt on every Rarity-based secret in Equestria was-

"Uh-huh.  I have to go now," Spike said.  AppleJack had just finished up a sermon about chocolate, but he had heard none of it.  His mind was preoccupied with Celestia.  He walked out of the dome stoically with a wave to the crowd.

OH, SPIKE, I-*HA*-I'M SORRY!  COME BACK!  I PRO-PROMISE I'LL STOP!  I'M SORRY!

"SWEETIE!!!" Spike half-growled, half-yelled once he entered the C.M.C.'s dome.

"Huh?" Sweetie said, looking up from her cards.  The flop and turn were on the ground between the three ponies.

"YOOOOUuuuuuuu....," Spike said.  He pointed a finger at her for dramatic effect, "yoooouuuu TOLD her!"****

"Uh..., what are you talking about?"

"You told Celestia about it, didn't you?!"

"Told her about what?"

"Th... the...."  Spike leaned close and whispered in her ear:  "The.... thing.  You know....  THAT thing...?"

"I don't get it," Sweetie said.  None of the ponies were the slightest bit nervous at Spike's outburst.

"You have the closest connection to Rarity, right?" Spike said, standing back up and facepalming exasperatedly.

"Yeah."

"And you started hangin' out with Celestia a few months ago?"

"Yeah.  I don't see where this is going."

"So isn't it possible to let things... slip in normal conversation?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, aren't those three facts making a connection?"

"No.  I still don't get it."  Sweetie's glassy eyes reflected Spike's face back at him.  He looked like a constipated midget wrestler.

"Reeeaaallllyyyyy?" Spike said, and leaned in close again.  The smell made him hungry for marshmallows.

"Aw, give it up, Spike.  She ain't never gonna'dmit she told 'Tia 'bout tha pillow," AppleBloom said.  She continued to stare at her cards.  She placed a white chip in the center stack.

Spike's head whipped in AppleBloom's direction.

"APPLEBLOOM!!" exclaimed Sweetie with a squeak.

"Well, that argument weren't gettin' anywhere anyway.  'T ain't no secret, neither."

"Who knows?!  Who knows?!" Spike frantically asked.

"Just a couple of us:  Lyra, BonBon, Cheerilee-"

"YOU TOLD CHEERILEE?!?"

"Donut Joe, Allie Way, the Flim-Flam brothers-"

"WHY WOULD YOU TELL THEM?!  YOU HATE FLIM AND FLAM!!"

"Carrot Top, Berry Punch, Cherry Jubilee, Roseluck, Lily, Pinkie, the Cakes (includin' tha twins)"

"THEY'RE FOALS!  WHY DO THEY NEED TO KNOW?!?"

"Derpy, Vinyl, Octavia, Jeff Letrotski, Granny Smith, Big Mac, Nurse Redheart, Colgate, Spitfire, Soarin, Lotus, Aloe, Cloudchaser, Flitter, and oh yeah!  Rarity's parents!"

Spike had been lying face-down since "Vinyl."  The pile of chips was digging into his chest.

"Why?" he asked calmly, but desperately.  "Why would ya DO that?  I'm probably already the laughing stock of the Equestrians!"

"No y'all ain't, and besahdes, we didn't tell everypony.  Sweetie let it slip in a conversation with Pinkie, and things sorta snowballed from there."

"Why would Sweetie do it?  Why?"

"'Cause she had a picture of you doin' it, and looked at it whenever she needed a good laugh."

"I'm not gonna ask how she got the picture.  Does Rarity know?"

"She don't need to.  She prob'ly already knows 'bout yer feelin's."

"Gee, thanks.  What a pick-me-up."

"It's OK, Spike.  None of those ponies really care about it (I'm pretty sure)," Sweetie sympathetically added.

"And your parents?  How did they find out?"

"They found that picture in my room one day.  Guess I didn't do that good a job hiding it.  They just laughed it off."

"Really?  That seems a little out there that they would dismiss something like that."

"Well, my parents are weird sometimes.  And they figured somepony just edited the photo to look like that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Scootaloo?  Is she tellin' the truth?"

"Totally," Scootaloo said.  "I mess with pictures all the time.  They probably thought I did it."

"Oh...."  Spike stood up.  "Well, then I guess it's OK."  He hesitated for a few moments.  "I'll go out and hang with some of the other ponies, OK?"

"Sure thing, Spike," Sweetie replied.  Her cards were the highest.  Spike walked out of the bubble and past the army tents.

"Close save, Scoot," Sweetie said.

"Thanks.  Same to you.  Couldn't tell him what really happened.

(TWO MONTHS EARLIER)

Large pipes ran the length of the rectangular room, which stretched a mere thirty feet ahead.  The ceiling's height seemed a few feet shorter.  A mere twelve feet separated the inner and outer walls.  A small, thin bulkhead door was on one side of the inner wall, which exited to one of the upper sleeping deck's corridors (which were originally hallways for repair-ponies back in the ship's shittier days).  The other wall was supported by twenty feet of solid metal; beyond lay the deadly vacuum of space (unless you were a unicorn, in which case you could poof up a magical space suit with a rebreather).  Sweetie's bed lay at the opposite side of the room from the door, and a massive hole in the wall lay a few feet above (used as a pipe to move the shit from one secondary tank to another-the white ponies' room was the end of the line).   Another, smaller bulkhead door was on the wall on the left side of Sweetie's bed; originally a waterproof supply closet, the room to the left of the bed was now Sweetie's closet (containing only two party dresses, at Rarity's insistence).  Rarity's mattress was on a metal fold-out bunk against the outer wall.  The short, rusty chains that supported the bunk began at the ceiling.  Ironically, Rarity never minded that her bed frame was covered in rust-dust.  She believed it important to sleep up high; the artificial gravity would smooth out any wrinkles in her skin.  Rarity's fashion supplies brutally crowded "her side" of the room, while Sweetie only kept books in her wooden nightstand to the right of her bed.  Dull, dark-green paint covered the walls (though most was obstructed by rust), and thick bolts held the metal wall-panels in place.  The paint had originally been applied to prevent corrosion from thousands of years of crap-and-piss-filled water, but had only lasted about eight-hundred.  To top the dismal look off, an yellowish-orange cage light made the decay glow, making it look older and rustier than it already was.

Sweetie lay back on her bed and stared up at the light; she sighed sadly.  Her sister was talking to friends in the cafeteria (a deck below), and her parents had been placed on the other side of the ship (at Rarity's request).  She was alone.  She opened her endtable's drawer and pulled out the picture, which lay under a stack of books.  She had spotted Spike with his pillow a month earlier while walking by his room (the dumbshit had forgotten to lock his door) and snapped a picture with her favorite Coltaroid.  She ran away just in time to hear him say, "Wha?"  Sweetie had altered the image herself, using a picture AppleBloom had taken of her at somepony's birthday party.  The white pony's face on the pillow was replaced by her younger sister's with the help of double-sided tape (stolen from Rarity's supply cabinet).  Sweetie sometimes stared at the picture for tens of minutes at a time, imagining the fun that pillow must have been experiencing.  She normally would not have been as curious, but her menarche had come a few months before, and the occasional sound from Soarin and Spirfire's room below had intrigued her.  In addition, the filly's first orgasm had been incited a month ago, quite by accident.

Sweetie had tripped on a small flight of stairs leading to her sleeping deck and fell to the side, where a large pipe-hub lay.  As she righted herself by sitting down on the hub, ready to slip back to the main floor, a freakishly large (fortunately un-rusted) bolt-head found its way into her crotch area.  Her "slit," as she had often called it, was behind its skin panel, but a bizarre, yet interesting feeling down there had arisen.  As she tried to move herself off of it, the feeling returned-  something like a hot tightening of the muscles.  She stared out at the corridor-nopony in sight.  It was late anyway (by Equestria time), and the rest of her race was asleep (the only reason she had gotten up at all was for a midnight snack).  She retracted the panel and allowed the bolt to slip farther and farther in, each bit making the feeling stronger.  She would have let out a small, quick "mm" sound, but she kept silent; no point in waking anypony up to find her like this.  The thing was all the way in now-about three inches down.  She wished it were longer.  She sat there for about a half a minute, letting the tightening subside.  As she arose, the feeling came back.  She had not expected it to return-just to be a one-time thing, like shooting up with something.  Sweetie's mouth slowly switched from a surprised crinkle to a smile.  She lowered herself down again.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  It was official; this was the greatest feeling she had ever experienced.  She noticed the bolt was wet below her, and smelled an odd smell-like sugar water with marshmallows.  Her muscles grew tighter.  She lowered.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  The tension in her slit grew phenomenally, and her legs and back followed.  She could imagine what would happen if she were to lower one last time.  She lowered once more-this time dropping down to let the force reach a maximum.  Her mouth crinkled, and her body shivered violently.  Her legs felt as if they were wrapping themselves around some invisible point, but they stayed put-straight in front of her.  The muscles seemed to rip clean out of her entire pubic area, and partially rip out of her back.  It was exactly what she had imagined.  A hot blast of some internal energy shot through her legs and slit, and she could no longer hold her voice in.  A small "MM" escaped.  Nopony heard.  She sat there for a while, eyelids closed and in happy arcs, legs closing over themselves, rubbing the slit against the bolt to eke out the rest of the energy.  The bolt was now wetter than ever, and the smell was quite strong.  Once the heat stopped shooting through, and the clamping subsided, she slowly arose and slid down to the walkway, closing the panel.  She turned back and used a quick-drying spell to get rid of any evidence.  Her eyes began to grow heavy, her body sapped of all energy.  Sweetie walked back to her room and quietly opened the door to Rarity's obnoxious snoring.  She closed the door and walked to her bed.  A note was on her endtable, written on a sticky note in blue ink, that she would never forget:

Congratulations!  Welcome to the first night of the rest of your life!

P.S.  Look in your drawer.

-L.

Luna.  Nopony else would be up this late, and the blue ink totally gave it away.  Sweetie opened the drawer and found a long, blue stick made of hard rubber.  A small switch was on the side.  When pushed, the thing vibrated with a small hum.  Sweetie turned it off and placed it back in the drawer along with the note.  Both were hidden under the books.  She looked up at the ceiling towards the inner wall, in the general direction of Luna's room at the top of the ship.

"Thanks," she said quietly, and nestled herself under the covers.

In the morning (Equestria time, indicated by the clock on Sweetie's endtable), another note was stuck to her lower sheet:

You're welcome.

-L.

Sweetie listened carefully to be sure that nopony else was around.  She walked to the door to be sure it was locked.  She nervously walked back to her bed and took the stick out of its drawer, and took the stick and picture into the closet with her (which looked no different from the rest of the room).  A smaller cage-light was inside, which was perfect for illuminating the picture.  Sweetie locked the door, knelt down on her front two legs, placed the picture in front of her, turned the stick on, opened the panel, and began the insertion, using her left hoof to control the stick.  After about a minute of slow reciprocation, Sweetie's mouth hung open and her tongue began to hang out.

"Oh, Spike," she mumbled.  "If only I were that pillow...."

She imagined his musings from above:  Oh, Sweetie!  It's so tight!  Why didn't I think of this before?

"Thanks," she mumbled.

You're so warm and wet....  This is the greatest thing I've ever felt!

"Me, too, Spike."

She amped up the force with her hoof and imagined his hands wrapping around her cheeks, bracing for strong impact.

Come on, Sweetie, let's turn up the juice!

"Anyth-*ooh!*  Anything you want, Spike."

The pounding continued, until Sweetie could take no more.

"Oh, Spike, I can't take anymore!"

C'mon, Sweetie!  Just a few more seconds!

"I'm not sure if I can!"

Do it for me, Sweetie!

"No, it's too strong.  I'm gonna squirt!"

Changed my mind!  Me, too!

One final slam pounded the stick in as far as it would go.  Her inner muscles clenched tightly around the stick and refused to let it go.

"MMM!"

Oooohhhhh, yyyyeeeaaaahhhh!!

Sweetie imagined that her flowing vaginal juices was Spike's semen.  The burning hot energy shot through again, as her vaginal walls kept rubbing strongly against the stick.

"I... I love you, Spike."

I love you too, Sweetie.

Once the energy was fully released, Sweetie stood up and performed the drying spell on both the stick and the floor.  As she was about to leave, she heard a horrible sound-somepony knocking violently on the main door.

It's OK, Sweetie thought.  I can get back into bed without anypony noticing, or I can make an excuse if they get too curious.

"Just a second!" Sweetie called as she exited the closet.  The knocking stopped.

"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" a muffled voice screamed from outside.  A more horrible sound than the first ensued, end Sweetie immediately knew what she was up against:  the most unnecessarily curious pony in all of Equestria.

The grinder was a horrific device with the body of a hoof-held chainsaw and a grinding disc for a head.  Pinkie used it to cut down doors of those who deserved to hear important information but were too stubborn to come out.  She revved it up with a few pulls of the starting cord, and sparks flew from the main door with a terrible screech.  Sweetie rushed to stow the evidence back in the drawer.  She leaped into bed and pulled out a book without looking at the title.  The sparks continued to fly.

The closet door was still open.

Sweetie rushed over and slammed it shut, then jumped back into bed.  Ten seconds later, the center of the door fell in with a freakish, ringing slam.  She flipped to a random page in her book.

"Hey, Sweetie, what's shakin'?" asked Pinkie as she zoomed inside.  She had left the grinder outside for some reason.

"Oh, nothin' much, Pinkie.  Just... readin'."

"Cool!  I was just in the neighborhood and wondered if you wanted to come to my annual shindig tonight!"

"But you just had an annual shindig yesterday."

"No, no, no.  That was the other annual shindig!  This one's totally different!"

"Uh... I... I guess so.  I don't see why not, but I'm a little tired out from yesterday's."

Pinkie's eyes squinted.  "Hmmm....  Watcha readin' there, Sweetie?"

Uh-oh!  Wrong answer!

"Oh, this?  This is a spell book I borrowed from Twilight.  I'm learnin' some new magic stuff."  Sweetie held up the red book for Pinkie to see.

Pinkie squinted more tightly and walked to the edge of Sweetie's bed.  "Really?"

"Yeah, really.  What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothin'....  Except that you're never tired between shindigs.  I know for a fact that you can appreciate parties as much as I can!"

"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it.  I'm just a little tired's all."

"I thought it might come to this, so I brought these two along in case you were a little... reluctant."

Pinkie pointed to the door.  AppleBloom and Scootaloo walked inside.

"Hi, Sweetie Belle!" the two said in unison.

"Oh, hi, girls!"

"AppleBloom, Scootaloo, something's wrong with your friend, here.  Seems she isn't up for a party!"

"Is that why you brought us along?  I thought you just wanted to show off the grinder again," said Scootaloo.

"Well, that, too.  But this is a more important matter, and I thought that if anyone can straighten her out, it's you two."  Pinkie's tone was much darker than before, and she knew something was up.  She was an expert vibe-reader.  "You two settle this thing, and I'll pass out more invitations, 'K?"

"Uh, OK," said AppleBloom.

Pinkie walked out of the room and knocked on an adjacent door.  No answer.  Grinder screech.  The two ponies walked to Sweetie's bed.

"It's gonna be really fun, Sweetie," said Scootaloo.

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this.  It's just a party."

"Well, it don't seem right of a pony to not wanna come to her own birthday party, I gotta admit," said AppleBloom.

Uh-oh.

The orange and yellow ponies stared at Sweetie curiously.

They're all teasing me!

"Y'all sick'r sum'n?"

"No.  I'm fine.  And I do want to go, really.  I don't know why I said I was tired in the first place."

"You're sweating," said Scootaloo.

"Yeah, n'blushin', too."

It was true.  Sweetie could feel her cheeks going hot.

Why didn't I just say 'yes?'  Why?  Why?  Why?

Sweetie sighed.  "Girls, I...."

The two other ponies looked back worriedly.

"I'm... not sure how to... tell you this...."

"You a lesbian or somethin'?" asked Scootaloo.

"No!  It's not that at all...  I...."

"Sweetie, y'all's worryin' us.  Y'ain't normally this shivery on yer birthday."

It was the most awkward position Sweetie had ever been put in.  She had no idea what to tell them.  It was true that there was nothing wrong with it, and all ponies entered puberty at about this age, but if AppleBloom and Scootaloo had not, there was no hope of them understanding.  Sweetie sighed again.

"Open the drawer," Sweetie said morosely.  "I don't really wanna say it out loud."

AppleBloom opened the drawer, and dug around until she pulled out the stick.

"This is what y'all'r scared about?"

Another sigh.  "Yeah.  It's a present I got from Luna a little while back."

"So?  What's there to be scareda?  Mah sister's got one'a these.  I've seen it in her drawer."

"Yeah, but do you know what it's for?"

"Sure, I know what it's for.  I hear AppleJack in the bathroom all the time.  It's crazy annoyin'-hearin' alla that moanin' 'n such."

"Scootaloo?  Do you know what it's for?" Sweetie asked nervously.

"Sure I do.  Luna gave me one of those months ago."

"S... so you're not... weirded out?"

"No.  Why would we be?  It's totally fine."

"You both think so?"

"Yeah," said Scootaloo.  Applebloom had found the picture, and stared at it with wide eyes.

"Whose face was originally on that pillow?" asked AppleBloom.

"Rarity's."

"PINKIE!!  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY DOOR?!?" screamed a deep male voice from down the hall.

"I cut it down, that's what!  You blind or somethin'?" Pinkie's distant voice replied.

"YEAH, I CAN SEE YOU CUT IT DOWN, BUT WHY?"

"'Cause you weren't answering, and I have news that's more important than you think!"

"OK, FINE!  ENLIGHTEN ME!  I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT TO HEAR WHAT'S THIS IMPORTANT!"

"Wanna come to my annual shindig tonight?  It's gonna be craaaaaaaazy!"

Silence.  More knocking on doors, done presumably by the male.

"Is there a unicorn here?  Anypony?  I need help fixing a door.  Looks like she got somepony else's-make that two doors.  Anypony?  Hello?"

The C.M.C. heard somepony else walking down the hall, then, "Don't worry, Thunderlane.  I got this."  Vinyl Scratch, by the informal tone of voice.  A loud creaking sound  filled the hall as the metal was fused back together.

"Thanks, Vinyl.  I owe ya one."

"Whoa.  Looks like they got another," Vinyl said.  She walked to Sweetie's door and magically lifted the fallen piece up without looking inside.  More creaking.

"All better," she said.  Her voice was extremely muffled.

"Hey, Vinyl!  You still on for tonight?"

"You know it, P!  I got some new pressings I think they'll love!  I even got the Bashed Bits to play!"

"Coo-well!  How'd you get 'em to agree to that?"

No answer.

"Well, anyway, see ya later, V!"

"Later, P!"

"Bye, Thunderlane!"

"Bye, Vinyl."

"See ya, Thunderlane!"

"Fuck you, Pinkie."

Thunderlane's door slammed shut.

"He seems pretty pissed today," said Vinyl.

"Ah, don't worry.  All he needs is a special shot of Pinkie's Poofy Party Punch!  He'll feel better in no time!"

"Why'd ya call it 'poofy'?"

"Because it makes your mouth go all dry.  Feels like you have poofy cotton candy in your mouth!  I thought it up myself!"

"Uh, Pinkie?  Whaddya put in that stuff?  Are you sure it isn't toxic?  'Cause the only stuff I know of that makes your mouth do that is poison joke oil."

"Poison joke oil?  The I thought I got regular joke oil.  Dammit, I'm always getting the wrong stuff!  Better get some better ingredients."

"I'd recommend that."

"Well, thanks for the tip, V!  See ya later!"

"See ya, Pinkie!"

Vinyl walked back to Sweetie's door and curiously opened it to see if anypony had been inside.  She saw the C.M.C. on the other side of the room.  Her sunglasses were off, and the three got a rare glimpse of her fuschia irises.  Or what could be seen of her fuschia irises, since her spiky blue hair partially obstructed them.

"Oh, hey, guys.  Didn't see ya there.  Sorry 'bout the creakin' 'n stuff."

"No, no.  It's OK," said Sweetie.  "She's done that before."

"Seriously?  Tell her to stop it, then."

"Rarity has, but Pinkie keeps buying gas for the grinder.  I think she figures it's OK if Rarity's probably not around."

"Typical Pinkie.  She'll get tired of it eventually, especially since I used magic back there to poke a hole in the gas tank," Vinyl said with a massive smirk.

Muffled knocking from outside, then, "Hey!  This thing's leaking!  I wonder...."  The rip cord was yanked.

"Pinkie, you retard!  Don't start that thing!  You'll set yourself on fire again!" Vinyl yelled into the hall.

"Oh yeah?  Do you have a better solution?"

"Throw it away!  Don't risk setting yourself on fire!"

A pause.  Pinkie considered the predicament.

"OK, fine, but I'm only doing this 'cause fire hurts!"

Pinkie walked back in the direction of Sweetie's room and up the stairs to the upper deck.  The chute to the trash compactor (magically installed by Celestia once the ship was space-borne, using an empty tertiary tank) was up there, on the left side of the hallway that led to the main chamber.  A massive *clang* resonated from deep within the far wall of Sweetie's room as Pinkie threw the damn thing in.  Within a few hours, it would be part of a massive, amorphous blob of trash.  After that, it would be shot into space by a giant piston and a conveniently placed airlock.

"Happy now?"

"Yeah.  Lemme just dry this gas trail off."

Vinyl's horn glowed white, presumably due to a quick-drying spell.

"So whatcha doin?" asked Vinyl as she walked inside the room.

"Oh, just hangin' out," said Scootaloo.

"Whatcha got in your mouth, Apples?"

"Nuffin'" AppleBloom said through poofy cheeks.

"Why didn't you just put it in the drawer?" Scootaloo whispered through her teeth.

"Shh'd heerr da drr shuttn.  I trrd to swalo ut," AppleBloom whispered.

"OK, now I'm curious," Vinyl said.  "What's in there?"

AppleBloom tried to swallow, but the picture would not budge; even in a ball, the Coltaroid cell's sharp edges held it against the opening to her esophagus.

"Whoa, don't hurt yourself, Apples," Vinyl said with a chuckle.  The white pony walked to the bed and pried open AppleBloom's mouth with magic.  More quick-fire spells pulled the ball out, uncrinkled it, dried it off, and delivered it to her upheld hoof.  Presumably, hysterical laughter ensued.  Vinyl fell to the floor as a result.

"Oh, you gotta be shittin' me!" she squealed.

"Oh, please don't tell anypony!" Sweetie pleaded.

"Yeah, it's not doin' anypony any harm!" asserted Scootaloo.  Vinyl's hysterics continued.  Once finished, she stood up.

"Well, it's obvious it's not harmin' anypony, but that's hilarious!  Spike with that pillow!"

"What was that?" Pinkie said.  She poked her head inside and *pwing*-ed over to the bed.  More laughter from both ponies.

Why didn't I close the door?!

"Now hold up, y'all!  Everypony here's gonna hear ya!" AppleBloom interjected.

"I'm s-sorry!" Pinkie said through the laughter.  "Spike and that pillow!  Oh-it's hilarious!"

"Lemme guess-Rarity's face was originally on it?  Am I right?" Vinyl asked excitedly.

"Uh... yeah," Scootaloo said nervously.  Hysterics.  Vinyl used magic to close the door.

Finally!  At least nopony else has to hear!

"Oh, the guys at the record shop have GOT to see this!" Vinyl said.  She placed the picture in her hair to carry it and began to walk to the door.

"NO!" Sweetie screamed.  She used her own magic to spark-weld the door shut.  Vinyl stopped in confusion.

"NOPONY GETS OUTTA HERE UNTIL YOU DESTROY THAT PICTURE!!" Sweetie screamed.  Her eyes were wild with fear and she panted heavily.  Her front legs were shivering.  Everypony stopped and stared.

Now I know what Twilight must feel like!

Vinyl pulled the picture out and stared at it.  She used magic to burn it away with a flash in the air.

"I... I'm sorry.  I... wasn't thinking straight," Vinyl said with frightened wide eyes of her own.

Sweetie used her magic to grind away the welding and replace the lock bars.  The door unlocked.  She placed her head in her front hooves and quietly wept.  The other ponies adopted Vinyl's fear-face.

"I...," Vinyl began, then walked out the door somberly.  "I'm a horrible pony," she said to herself in the hall.

Pinkie looked to AppleBloom, then Scootaloo, then Sweetie.

"It's... all my fault.  I never should have ground the door down," Pinkie mumbled to herself, as if in realization.  She stared back at Sweetie, who met her eyes with glassy tears.  Pinkie's look said it all.  Wide eyes with an ever-so-slight bend in the mouth and a microscopic lip parting.  Nopony present had ever seen her like this.  Every trace of even remote happiness had left her face.  She walked out somberly as Vinyl had.  The C.M.C. heard barely-audible crying outside as Pinkie walked back to her room.

AppleBloom and Scootaloo walked out quietly.  AppleBloom closed the door behind her, and Sweetie cried herself into a doze.

In the following weeks, Sweetie heard other ponies mumbling to each other about Spike's pillow, but this was because some other pony had seen him and squealed.

Pinkie never used a grinder again.

Unbeknownst to the ponies, it was near midnight on Earth.  Richard Marlon lay in his bed with earbuds in his ears.  He quietly cried to himself while listening to Mexican Wine.  The only thought that went through his head was Please fix my mom's brain!

Other than his reason for the blue tie, this was the only secret he kept from the people.

I used to fly (I used to fly) for United Airlines, then I got fired for reading High Times (I was so high).

My license expired in almost no time (Now I know why).  Now I'm retired and I think that's fine.

Because the sun still shines in the summertime.  I'll be yours if you'll be mine.

I tried to change, but I changed my mind.  Think I'll have another glass of Mexican wine.*****

An army guy stood in front of one of the tents and spoke through a microphone, which was hooked to two massive JBL speakers on tripod stands.  He held a clipboard with a script in the crook of his left arm.  Ol' Jimmy Lansing would have been proud.

"Attention ponies!  Attention ponies! Come to the sound!  Come to the sound!"

The technicolor mass moved to the speakers from behind and between the tents.  The ponies under the trees deactivated the magic fields.

"Under President Marlon's orders, you are to form a line, beginning there," he said as he pointed to the far shelter.  You will file into the indicated shelter.  When this one is full, on to the next one, et cetera.  Once these are filled, the remainder of you will move to the back lawn to file into those shelters.  You will be provided for with bunk beds, breakfast, lunch, and dinner of various types of... grass?" he said with an odd glance at the script.  "Confine your daily activities to either of the lawns until further notice.  Are there any questions?"

A yellow pony with blue hair and freckles raised her hoof from the middle of the crowd.

"You there, the yellow one."

"Can we teleport stuff down from the ship?" asked the pony.

The army guy flipped through pages.

"To an extent.  No weapons are allowed, and the supervisor for each tent reserves the right to reject any items which are too large."

"Define 'too large,' please," the same pony said.

"If it's too big to fit in your bunk, it's probably too big."

"OK," the pony replied.

"Each of you will be accounted for.  You are to state your names upon entering for the first time, and a picture will be taken of your cutie marks."

"Dammit," Scootaloo said to herself.

"Unless you have no cutie marks.  In which case a facial shot will be acceptable."

Some of the ponies snickered.

Why does everybody laugh at that line?  It's almost as if... OOOOHHHHHhhh... FACIAL shot!  Heh-heh-heh.

"I assume this is understood."

Nopony replied.

"Then form a line and begin filing into the first shelter."

They did as they were told, and two army guys in chairs guarded the front.  One held a fancy camera, and the other held a clipboard with 'fancy graphin' paper.'"

"Name?" the clipboard guy asked the first.  The other snapped a picture.

"Vinyl Scratch."

"Can you take your sunglasses off, please?"

Vinyl complied.

"OK, fuschia irises.  Start at the back bunks."

Vinyl replaced her glasses and walked inside.  She climbed the metal stepladder leading to the upper bunk in the back.  She looked like a giant, white spider.

The process continued.

"Name?"

"Cheerilee."

*Snap*

"Can you spell that?"

"C-H-E-E-R-I-L-E-E."

"Green irises, pink hair, purple body.  Go ahead in.  Start at the back."

"Never heard of anybody naming their kid an adverb," the camera guy said.

"Name?"

"Allie Way."

"Spell that?"

"A-L-L-I-E-Space-W-A-Y"

*Snap*

"Yellow body, about five-and-a-half feet tall, blue hair, aqua irises.  Go ahead in.  Start as far back as you can."

"What were those things on her mark?" asked the camera guy.

"They looked like those neon things outside a bowling alley."

"What are those supposed to be?"

"The fuck should I know?"

"Name?"

"Colgate."

"Colgate?  As in the toothpaste?"

"I... guess so.  It's C-O-L-G-A-T-E."

"Ah.  Blue body, darker blue and white hair, blue irises."

*Snap*

Can you even sue something of another species?

"Go ahead in.  Start as far back as you can."

"Name?"

"Milky Way."

"Any relation to Allie Way?"

"First cousin.  Father's side."

"OK.  Yellow body, blue hair, freckles.  OK, go inside.  Start as far back as you can."

*Snap*

"Oh God!" said the camera guy.

"What's up?" asked the clipboard guy.

"Uh... why do you have... two asses?" asked the camera guy.

"What the fuck?  Lemme see."

Milky Way turned to her right.

"Jesus Howard****** Christ!" the clipboard guy said, wide-eyed.  Indeed, an apparent second set of cheeks lay below the primary ones, slightly in front of her legs.

"It's not a second ass," Milky said.

"What... is it then?"

Milky flipped over to a human-like sitting down position.  She was right.  That was no second ass.

It was-

"Tits," the clipboard guy said.

"The fuck?" asked the camera guy.  Milky flipped to his direction.

"The fuck?" he restated.  Two massive, human-like breasts, situated near the crotch, stared back at him.  Neither of the two men had originally seen the nipples, and the two-ass theory had seemed quite plausible.

"Why do you think my name's 'Milky Way?'" she asked.  She returned to her standing position and walked inside.  The camera guy laughed to himself.

"Shut the fuck up!" the clipboard guy snapped.  "Name?"

"Bon-Bon," the pony said in a low woman's voice.

"Pink and blue hair, yellow body, aqua irises."

*Snap*

"Start as far back as you can."

"Alright," Bon-Bon said in a much higher voice.  She walked in before anybody could question the pitch change.  The camera guy shrugged.

This process continued until the shelter was filled.  After that, the army guys picked up their chairs and moved to the next one.  The process repeated for each shelter.  Celestia was stationed in one of the front lawn.  The massive mattress next to hers (for Luna) had a note stuck to it, on a yellow Post-It in blue ink.

To whom it may concern,

Marlon has given orders for special housing arrangements for me, since I'm nocturnal and have a difficult time sleeping during the night.  I need to be in a place that's constantly pitch-black during the day, like my room back home.  If you don't believe me, you can ask Marlon yourself.

-Luna

It was true.  When a higher-ranking army guy phoned in, Marlon told him the same, although he did not reveal exactly where she was staying (the guy showed no curiosity about it, anyway). It would seem too weird to hear that a giant blue alien was taking up closet space, possibly eating clothes like a moth larva.  In response, the army guys decided that this second mattress would be used as an upgrade to the original sleep-shift mattress in the back.  The boys in tent number 2 would be the envy of their comrades.  They were instructed not to instinctively scream when awoken, since the nine-foot-tall horse-like alien was supposed to be in bed next to them.

At seven, a guy with a large cart walked through the center of shelter 1.  Another guy did the same for shelter 2, and so on.  Large boxes lay on top in stacks, and plastic water bottles adorned with black, rectangular name-labels on top of those.

"Dinner!" he yelled.  "Each of you will get one of these boxes; they're filled with... some kind of Earth grass, since this is what Celestia told us you guys eat.  We assume these portions are correct.  You will also get a water bottle, which can be refilled at the spigots there.  Don't worry-it's cold."  He pointed to the back wall, in which four water spigots were affixed.  They were connected to the pipes that originally fed the lawn sprinklers, and would again once the shelters were taken down.

"I'll call out names for these bottles; they're each labeled for you.  Remember to keep track of them.  On other days, I'll let you come and get the food yourselves.

Vinyl Scratch!"

Vinyl climbed down and placed the bottle in her hair for safe keeping.  She took a box and climbed back up to her bunk.

"And I'd recommend you don't leave any grass clippings lying around up there.  It'll get stains everywhere."

"Hm, not bad," Vinyl said quietly as she ate her grass.

"Cheerilee!"

Cheerilee took her stuff and went to fill up her bottle.

"Allie Way!"

The process continued.  An hour later, each guy had presumably finished.  The process would only take about ten seconds when the ponies got food for themselves.

After she had finished her grass, Celestia poofed in a pen and paper, and wrote a note to Twilight and Pinkie.

Dear Twilight and Pinkie,

They've assigned us beds in those massive shelters now, and they gave Earth grass for dinner.  Pretty close to Equestria grass, actually, but a little sharp.  And by that I mean:  their grass has microscopic spikes on the side.  Then again, this is only one type.  There are lots of grass species here.  We get all the cold water we want and we have quick access to Earth toilets.  Don't worry; they work the same as the ones back home, except the portable ones don't flush.

I hope your time at the facility has been going well.  I can imagine I won't see you two for a little bit, since they'll want to monitor your sleep patterns.  Don't worry, Marlon put in an order to save two beds just for you when you get back.

Sincerely,

Celestia

The day had been a productive one; the two ponies had gone through C.A.T. scans, M.R.I.'s, X-Rays, E.E.G.'s, and a battery of other machines which could be hooked to the body by gluey sensors.  Twilight had even performed a spell to make the different layers of her being transparent (much like the Lateralus album cover) so that the two scientists could better study the anatomy.  Twilight performed the same spell on Pinkie, and the scientists were shocked to find that Pinkie's internal organs were arranged differently.  They were mostly congregated up near her spine, presumably to lessen the weight on her underbelly during long *pwing*-ing sessions, according to Twilight.  And her spine's discs were far more bulky, presumably to counteract the weight of the organs.  They later learned from a book that this was normal; some ponies' organs were arranged differently to better suit their predefined personality traits.

"Prenatal evolution," Wick had mused.

"Dibs on the band name," Earhart had joked in reply.

They also learned that magic could not cure everything in a pony's body; many of their internal organs were only susceptible to shape-shift magic.  The ponies had yet to determine the evolutionary purpose of this.

The scientists discovered that a pony's digestive process included the total obliteration of any visible remains of food masses; their stomach acids were insanely corrosive-much more so than humans'.  A bizarre series of internal magic processes and chemical reactions turned the amorphous blob into a chocolate-tasting substitute by literally changing and rearranging the atoms within.  The intestine linings were glazed with ions of various types to complete chemical reactions; the ions were replenished with magic energy.  The nearly incalculable amounts of energy released from the process gave the ponies massive energy boosts when they ate, which explained the extended durations of time they could survive without eating-about a month.  The ponies had yet to determine the evolutionary purpose for this, as well.

At nine o' clock, two mattresses were brought in by other fearful scientists and placed in the exam room where Marlon had been hours earlier.  The ponies were hooked up to more gluey sensors on their heads, underbellies, and backs.  They were instructed to sleep while the scientists kept watch shifts.

"But what if we're not sleepy?" asked Pinkie, staring up at them from the mattress.  She was situated on her back at the moment, and Earhart shivered at the memory.

"Why would you not be?" asked Wick.  "Is it because of the Equestria-Earth time change?"

"Oh, no.  I don't care about that time change stuff.  But I need reading material!  I can't fall asleep without reading material!"

"Pinkie!" interjected Twilight, "Just try to sleep without it this once.  They probably don't have any reading material here."

"No, no.  It's fine.  It's important to simulate the normal sleep process.  What do you normally like to read?" asked Earhart.

"Gimme somethin' sexy!" Pinkie said happily.

"Oh, God."  Another shiver.

"I... don't think we have anything like that here," Wick said.  "Is there anything else you normally like to read?"

"Well, sexy stuff is my favorite, and it is what I normally read."

"But even if we did have sexy books here, it would all be about humans.  It wouldn't be that... interesting to you."

"Sure it would!  Maybe I could learn somethin' from your writing!"

The scientists looked at each other.

"Do... you wanna... ask some of the others...?" Wick whispered.

"No way, man.  You do it.  It's gonna be embarrassing!" Earhart whispered back.

"But she... wants something sexy.  We should try to... ask around."

"You're just dodging!  You don't wanna ask!"

"Of course I don't.  That's embarrassing as Hell!"

"Rock paper scissors?"

"Flip a coin?"

"Fine."

Wick took a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it.  He slapped it against his hand.

"Call it."

"Heads."

Wick lifted up the quarter.  Heads.

"Dammit," Wick whispered.  The two scientists turned back to the ponies.

"Alright, Pinkie I-"

Pinkie was gone.  The sensors were in a slew on the mattress.

"Where'd she go?" asked Wick.

"I'm not sure," said Twilight.  "I think she went to ask around.  I tried to talk her out of it."

"Dammit.  I'll go get her," Wick said.  He walked out of the room quickly.

"Uh... ex... excuse me?" one of the scientists asked.

"Yeah, you know, sexy stuff!  Stuff with the vag and the dick and the schlick-schlick-schlick!" Pinkie said.  The three scientists were still in shock.  They had been working on growing rot-proof, genetically modified apples under infared light, when a pink alien had swung the door open and asked, "Hey, do you guys have any sexy books?"

"Uh... we... don't have anything like that here...." said another.

"Aw!  And I thought this place was cool, too!  Well, see ya later!" Pinkie said and left.  She shut the door behind her.  One scientist burst into laughter.  They heard a muffled voice through the wall, coming from the next room over.

"Hey, do you guys have any sexy books?"

"Uh... wha?"

"Yeah, you know!  Vag, dick, schlick-schlick-schlick?"

"Uh... try the next room over.  Bill's the one who studies that stuff."

"Okie dokie!  Thanks, mister!"

Laughter began from the next room.

"Hi, Bill!" Pinkie said loudly as she opened the next door over.  A man stood on the right of the twenty-foot deep room, looking through a microscope among a plethora of lab equipment.  He jumped at the intrusion.

"Who are you?  How'd you know what my name is?" Bill asked shakily.  The man was about forty, with a grey hair or two on the sides of his black waves.  He was slightly round, and did not look like he could use a heart attack.

"I'm Pinkie, and I was told to get you here."

"P... please.  I don't want trouble," he said, slowly moving to the back of the room.

"I don't either!  All I want is a sexy book!"

Bill paused and stared.

"A... sexy book?"

"Yeah, you know!  Vag, dick, schlick-schlick-schlick?"

"Y... you want a human sex book?"

"Yeah!  I can't go to sleep without reading material, and I want something sexy!"

"Pinkie!" Wick said.  "Don't bother Bill!  He doesn't like to be disturbed!"

"I wasn't bothering him!  I was just asking him for a sexy book!  The guys in the other room told me to come here!"

"I'm sorry, Bill.  She's new here and... doesn't know much about how we humans don't like being disturbed," Wick said, peeking through the door.

"N... no.  It's OK.  She's... not bothering me.  If they told her to come here, so be it.  C... come over here," he said to Pinkie.  He walked to a cabinet on the left side of the room.  He opened it to countless manuals and novels (used for studying societal views by literature) on the subject.

"What did you have in mind?  Novel?  Manual?  Anatomy book?"

"Gimme a novel!  I loved reading that sort of thing back at home."

Bill pulled out four novels.

"Here.  Take these.  They should do for a while."

He handed the books down to her:  How the West Was Done; Rendezvous, Then I'm Through With You*******; The Deserted Island; and Creamy, Creamy Frosting********.

"Also, try this."

He handed down Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask*********.

"This might shed some more light on human habits."

"Ooh!  Thanks, mister!" Pinkie said.  She grabbed the books and walked upright to carry them.

"I didn't know you could do that!" Wick said.

"Well, nopony does it very often, 'cause it's way easier to walk on all fours, but I've always been able to do it, no sweat.  And it's useful for carrying stuff!"

"Alright then, Pinkie.  Let's get back to the exam room," Wick said nervously.

"See ya later, Bill!"

"D... don't be afraid to come back if you have any questions," Bill said.  He was obviously excited that he could finally teach someone about his work.

Wick closed the door, and they walked back to the exam room.

"OK, can you get to sleep now?" asked Wick when Pinkie was hooked back up to the sensors.

"I should!" she said cheerily.  She picked up Creamy, Creamy Frosting and placed it on the ground, in front of the mattress.  She held the pages down with her hooves.

"Anything you need, Twilight?" asked Earhart.

"No, except I sleep better with the lights off, but Pinkie wants to read her book.  I'll manage."

"OK then.  We're all good from here.  Heart rates... normal."

Pinkie turned a page with the tip of her hoof.

Part I: The Landing (Chapter VIII)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter VIII)

You remind me of a former love that I once knew

-Panic at the Disco, I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

Marlon set his clock for 6 and paused, sitting up on the bed.  He stared at the soft glow of the ancient, mahogany lamp on his endtable.  He pondered the concept of "forever."  Such deep thoughts rarely entered his head this late at night, but he remembered what Celestia had said earlier about Luna.  He thought about the actual possibility of free sex for life.  He envisioned himself as an older man, continuing to have nightly, super-freaky sex as he had done for the past thirty years.  His only fear was that it would eventually become boring, but he alleviated the mental pressure with, But she's got magic.  She can mix stuff up with infinite possibilities.  Marlon wrote about it in his journal.

The pen was grey again.

Mere minutes after he closed his eyes, he felt a hot breeze hit his face and chest.  He opened them to a scene that began as a deep blue, but gained color over the next several seconds.

He was behind the wheel of a car-an ancient, yet shiny-new red convertible, similar to the one from Fear and Loathing.  He was pulled over on the shoulder of Route 28, which he remembered from past trips to Virginia.  The sky was a cloudless blue, and another hot breeze indicated springtime.  He looked to his left to see a Costco and a hotel through a group of trees on the side of the highway.  The car was stopped just in front of the bridge that passed over Route 50; the old plantation lay beyond.  The only surreal part of the scene was that he was the only one here.  At this time of day-noon, by the angle of the sun-this road would be jammed up the ass with traffic.

Marlon felt a hand-not a hoof-rest on his white t-shirted shoulder.

"You OK, sweetie(ss)?" a voice said.  He turned to his right to see a long-gone figure in his passenger seat-his old girlfriend, Amy.  Everything about her was the same-her deep-blue hair that only reached her shoulders-a style typical of French women, matching accent, brown riding boots, leather jacket, thin blue jeans, and her ever-present sunglasses.  They were circular like Lennon's, and their deep-black shade kept her pretty, grey eyes invisible.  Her face resembled a doll's-small nose, thin mouth, and smooth cheeks.  She was one-in-a-million, and completely out of place.  Born Aurelie, a French farm-girl (a few months younger than Marlon) who adopted the style of a British Rocker and moved to the U.S. at fourteen.  Went by "Amy" to better fit in with the kids at school.  Began to date Richard Marlon at eighteen.  Let him fuck her at eighteen-and-a-half.  Moved into an apartment with him at twenty-two.  Hit by an Acela at twenty-three.  Marlon had not been there to see it happen, but the newspaper told that she had been on "all four tracks at once."  That was the day their relationship came to an end.  It had been so long since-

Wait a minute....

Marlon saw his reflection in the rearview mirror.  The Richard that peered back was much younger-possibly 19, with hair far shorter than his presidential 'do.  His red stubble was now a thin beard.

I'm younger!

"Reeshard?" asked Amy.  Soft voice, as he remembered.

And it's only a dream; I remember falling asleep.  And Luna's here because I'm fully conscious and the dream started out blue.  First the clock, now the dream intro.

"Yes?" the young Marlon answered.  His voice had not changed much between then and his presidency, except for the removal of the mild teenage overtone.

"Wat 'appened?"

"N-nothing.  I'm fine."

She must have disguised herself as Amy.

"Are you sure?  You just drove over 'ere een a daze."

I should play along.  She went through this much trouble pulling Amy out of my memory.

"It's OK, really.  I'm sorry for scaring you."

"OK, boot eef you feel thees way again, I can drive.  Eet's fine."

"No, I'll be alright," Marlon said as he started the car.  His keychain had a rubber piece shaped like Texas on it.  Six Flags Fiesta Texas, it advertised.  He shifted into first and entered the empty highway.  As he drove over the bridge, he saw that Route 50 was deserted, too, and he could see all the way down to the Hummer dealership.  He heard a *flick* and saw Amy lighting a Winston with a black Zippo.

"You want won?"

"Uh... sure."

Amy placed one in the corner of his mouth and lit it while he shifted into fourth.  The harsh tobacco taste filled his throat.  He had no reason to fear; he would quit smoking at twenty-four.

"Thanks."

Some cocksucker on the board of public works had decided to make the exit ramp to 50 inaccessible from the car's original position.  Marlon drove to the cloverleaf near the Udvar-Hazy center and used it to turn back.  He entered 50, heading towards the Hummer dealership.  He had no idea where he was originally going, but suddenly had an idea.  Even though it was a dream, and Amy had a 100 percent chance of being Luna in disguise, he could play along and go sightseeing at the same time.  He turned left at the Red Robin, and passed the Chantilly Crossing shopping center.  Empty parking lot.  Impossible.

"Where are we goeeng again?"

"A little place out in the country.  I think you'll like it," Marlon replied.  He knew of a small town out in the mountains he had been to numerous times in his college days in order to relieve stress with scenery.  He continued through the constantly-green lights to the BP station, at which he turned right.

"Try thees," Amy said, and handed him a black box she had pulled from the glove compartment.  The box had a picture of Gerry Rafferty's City to City album art on the front, and an incorrectly arranged song list on the back.

"Where did you get this?"

"I found eet een a leetle store out een Fairfax.  'Ave you never seen one before?"

"No, I've seen one, but not for a long time.  My dad had an 8-track player back home."

Before he went 'bye-bye, Richie.'

"I got eet for you, seence I know you love museec."

"Well, thanks.  This is a really good album."

"Then water you waiteeng for?  Shove eet een."

Marlon saw a rectangular slot below the dial-radio.  He pushed the 8-track in, and the title song began.

"Woo, woo," Amy said along with the intro.

Richard continued through the empty world until he reached the intersection to Route 29.  He turned to the right and began down the long stretch that moved upward, then made a massive dip, then went back up again.  On one side of the dip were mediocre townhouses.  On the other side were multi-million dollar estates.  The lower and upper middle classes were strictly divided by the high-tension power lines that ran above the road as the dip returned the driver to normal ground level.  The car continued on, passing a church and an ancient community center.  Marlon never liked driving this way because of that community center building.  It reminded him of another antique community center in Nebraska-possibly built with the same blueprints.  The community center in Nebraska next to the subdivision where-

"Reeshard?" Amy asked.  "Are you OK?"

"Wha?  Uh... yeah.  I'm fine, sweetie."

"You look sad.  I hate to see you like thees.  What's the matter?"

"I had a bit of a flashback back there's all.  I remembered something I don't like to."

"Awww, sweetie(ss)," Amy said, wrapping her arm as far around him as she could.  "I hate to see you like thees."

"No, it's OK.  I'll just stop at a gas station and get something to drink.  That should take my mind off it."

"OK.  I think I'll have something, too."

She began to slowly rub his back comfortingly.

Oh, the whimsy.

Home and Dry was finishing up when the car neared the Bull Run battlefield.  The massive Luck Stone quarry would have provided an interesting view, if some cocksucker on the public works board had decided not to put up a big-ass wall to block the view of the hole.

This silver bird takes me 'cross the sky.  Just one more hour and I'll be home and dry.

Across the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealing

Marlon wished his car could be like the silver bird so they could get to the mountains more quickly.  He turned the car left at the battlefield's main intersection and headed toward Manassas, where he would take a ramp to Route 66.  He pulled into a Shell station across from a Bob Evan's and parked the car.

This is a dream, and it started blue, which means Amy has to be Luna.  She can create somebody to be behind the counter in there, or else make stuff free.

The two got out of the car and walked inside the station.  Nobody was there, but the door was unlocked.  The coolers hummed, and a hidden radio played Walking on the Moon.  Its spacey guitar intro made the scene all the more bizarre.

Giant steps are what you take, walking on the moon

I hope my legs don't break walking on the moon

"Nobody's here," Amy said.

"Doesn't look like it."

Amy walked to the cooler and pondered a selection, then said, "I gotta go to the bathroom.  Be back in a sec."  She walked to the bathroom door on the right of the coolers and went inside.  Moments after Marlon heart a faint *zip*, a black Altima pulled up to one of the pumps.  It had apparently come from the opposite direction as he had.

A woman stepped out of the car to examine the pump, then walked to the station building.  She opened the door and walked to the counter.  Nobody.  She looked behind the counter to the tiny office.  Nobody.

"Is anyone running this place?" the woman asked Marlon.  She had a perky voice.  She looked about twenty-five.  Blue locks of curly hair reached her shoulders,and freckles were spread across the center of her small face.  She wore a low-cut, yellow t-shirt with a massive, white "M" on the front and thin jeans like Amy's.  Black aviators covered her eyes.  Of course, it was impossible for Marlon to ignore the elephant in the room.  It would not be possible for anyone to ignore the elephant in this room.

The woman had some of the perkiest boobies Marlon had ever seen.  They were massive, round, and stuck out from her bra like a second ass.  Marlon could not tell if they were real or not.  He secretly imagined sucking them.  He felt guilty for thinking so, since Amy's were something to shake a dick at, but she never had to know.  It was his own mind, and he could fantasize however he damn well pleased.

But what if that's Luna?

Flush.  A faucet running.

Amy came out of the bathroom.

"Steel nobody(ss)?"

"No.  Nobody but her," Marlon said, pointing to the woman near the counter.

"Nobody back there?" Amy asked.

"No.  Looks like somebody left in a hurry."

Amy looked outside, then at the monitor behind the counter that normally displayed the security camera footage.  It was off.  She pulled a Sunkist bottle out of the cooler and shoved it in her pocket.  Next, she found a Hershey's king size cookies 'n creme bar and did the same.  She pulled down a pack of Winstons from behind the counter.

"Amy!" Marlon interjected.

"Wat?  Nobody's around, and the cameras aren't runneeng."

The other woman did the same, except with a Dr. Pepper and a can of Pringles.

"I don't think either of you should be doing this," Marlon said.  Even though it was a dream, it felt wrong to even be acquainted with those who stole.  He realized how goddam stupid it sounded when he actually said it out loud, in a place where there was no need to feel guilty.

"No problem," said the woman with giant boobies.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty, which she laid on the counter.  "Happy?"

"C'mon, Reeshard.  Take some stuff for yourself," Amy encouraged.

"Um... alright."

Marlon picked out a Monster and Sno-Caps.

"Alright, I've got stuff."

"Been a pleasure meeting you two," said the other woman.

"What's your name?" asked Amy.  The other woman paused for a moment and looked at Amy as if she were crazy.

"Mary."

Mam-Mary!

Marlon stifled a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it.  Anyway, been a pleasure meetin' you two."

Mary got in her car and drove off, apparently in hopes of finding a gas station with a working pump.

"Let's go, Reeshard," Amy said.

He complied, and they left the station.  On their way out, Amy took the twenty dollar bill off the counter and stuffed it in her pocket.

"A-"

It's only a dream.

"Wat ees eet?"

"Nothin'."

Marlon and Amy returned to the car.  Marlon turned back to the main road to get to the 66 ramp.  Rafferty continued to sing.  Marlon saw that the Uno and Regal Cinemas parking lots were empty.  Impossible.  When the car reached the off-ramp at Gainesville a few minutes later, Amy pulled out the 8-track and replaced it with a new one from the glove compartment.  Dire Straits.  She pushed the program selector until Sultans of Swing conveniently began.

Of course the songs always start exactly where they're supposed to; this is a dream.

The road's speed limit picked up to 70 as the city scene faded.  Massive mountains lay ahead to make the scene picturesque and serene.

The ones in Washington state are better, though, Marlon thought to himself.

Amy opened her Sunkist and drank lightly.  Upon seeing this, a verse from Rosetta Stoned began to play in Marlon's head.

Strapped down to my bed.  Feet cold and eyes red.

I'm out of my head.  Am I alive?  Am I dead?

Sunkist and Sudafed.  Gyroscopes and infared.  Won't help.  I'm brain-dead

Can't remember what they said.  God damn.  Shit the bed.

This happened almost every time he saw a Sunkist bottle.  It was becoming tiresome.

The road began to wind through the mountains themselves a few minutes later, and the worn rock face of one of the mountains seemed strangely inviting.  To Marlon, it symbolized the total absence of city life.  The rock had been free to erode over millions of years with no city-like interference.  And it was a rare spectacle anyways, what with Nebraska being flat like Texas and all.  Green trees littered the sides of the highway.  Further in, the mountains on the left side of the road kept their distance from the cars, leaving small valleys in between.  Neither Marlon nor Amy spoke; they simply enjoyed the scenery.  When the car passed the Markham exit, Marlon saw the (empty) Hartland orchard on his right and the sign for the Stribling orchard on his left.

AppleJack would like it out here, he thought.  That would be her dream job-being back in an apple orchard.

Marlon eventually noticed that the car was low on gas.

Dammit.

"Hey Amy, we're running outta gas.  I'll need to stop at a gas station."

"Suit yourself," she said.

Marlon took another exit to his right which would lead him to a Chevron station.  He knew that the pump would work; this was a dream after all.  He turned left under the highway bridge and saw the station directly in front of him.  He drove to the station and pulled up next to a pump.  He pulled the nozzle out of the holder and placed it in the fuel tank.  He pulled the handle-

Yes!

-and the gas began to flow.  Of course it was free; this was a dream.  Money was no good here.

"Let's check that place out," Amy said.  She pointed to the other side of the road.  A long, red building stood there, with a sign on its front, The Apple House.  Smoke came out of a chimney, and a light-grey Ford Ranger was parked outside.  Another dream-person.

Marlon finished filling up the tank.  He drove to the red building and parked next to the Ranger.  The two walked inside.

The main room was not by any means deep, but the ceiling was high.  Halogen lights illuminated a rack of hot sauces directly in front of the entrance.  To the right, cash registers, gumball machines, and an open entrance to a large room which contained various sorts of country memorabilia and kids' toys.  To the left, a long dining room, half-enclosed by rubber roll-down windows.  Half-enclosed, because the rolls were only halfway down.  Though it was relatively dim, Amy did not remove her sunglasses.  Marlon heard a scraping sound come from the kitchen side of the dining room, like a spatula scraping against a grill for meat-flipping purposes.  He walked inside.  A radio played some steel-guitar-saturated country tune.

Must be doin' somethin' right.  I just heard you sigh

You lean into my kiss and close those deep-blue, need-you eyes

Don't know what I did to earn a love like this, but baby IIIII

Must be doin' somethin' right

A young woman's voice hummed along to the tune.  Marlon saw more of the scene as he walked further in.  A woman in her early twenties was within a massive array of machines and pipes, looking down and using the spatula.  She had a freckles and yellow hair, which was done into a ponytail by a red band.  She wore a low-cut, orange t-shirt with a massive, red apple on the front.  She wore sunglasses.  Inside.

"Well howdy, stranger!" she said in a heavy southern accent.  "What can ah do ya for?"

Is that AppleJack?

Marlon said nothing; he only stared at the massive menu written on a massive chalkboard which hung from the white ceiling rafters.  He looked back at her with puzzlement.

"Somethin' ya got a hankerin' for?" she asked.

"Er... no.  Nothing for me.  I'm just lookin' around."

"Alrighty, then.  Just holler if ya need anythin'."

"Do you run this place?"

"Naw.  But nobody else showed up fer work today, so ah'm just sittin' 'round in case anybody decides to show up.  Like y'all, for example."

Amy walked in.  She stared at the menu.  "Gimme a slice of apple pie, plees," she said.

"Well, sure thing, missy.  Apple pah's our specialty here, what with all the orchards 'round 'n such."

The woman walked to the display case (counter?) and pulled out a slice of pie.

"This'un's on the house.  Take it as a li'l token of 'preciation fer comin' round here at all.  Just don't go tellin nobody, ya hear?"

You are AppleJack.  But why are you here?

"Tank you.  Don't worry(ss).  I won't tell anybody(ss)." Amy said.  She took a fork from a fork box on the counter, then walked to a table.  She dove into the pie.  Marlon sat down opposite her.

"I take it you like it," he said.  Amy did not reply; her mouth was full.

The woman walked over to the table (Marlon saw that she was wearing cowboy boots) and pulled up a seat next to Amy.  Amy stared at her with curiosity.

"Ah hope y'all don't mind me comin' over here, but it gets awful lonely up here'n these mountains, and ah'm one ta value th'art a' conversation."

Amy swallowed and stared at the woman, who stared at Marlon.  Almost as if she was trying to... observe him.

"OK, fine.  Boot I'm thirsty(ss).  Do you have anytheeng to dreenk?"

"Sure we do."

"Plees breeng me sometheeng.  I don't care wat."

"Yep.  Apple pah'll do that to ya.  Hold on a sec.  I'll rustle a li'l sum'n sum'n up."

The woman walked back behind the counter and grabbed a cup from some hidden box.  She walked to the soda fountain on the right side of the counter and poured what appeared to be Coke.  She walked back over to the table.

"Trah summa this.  It'll do ya good."

Amy took the cup and drank heartily.  She looked as if she had been dying of thirst, even though she had had 20 ounces of Sunkist-

...And Sudafed.

-earlier.

"That was deleecious," Amy said.  "I deedn't have stuff like tat back 'ome."

"Really now?  Ah thought they always had Coke in France."

"They deed, but I deedn't try eet unteel I got to the U.S."

The two women continued to chat about various sodas that may or may not have ever existed in France, and Marlon pondered the questions invading his mind.

Why are they all wearing sunglasses?  Are they photosensitive?  What was that poster girl for Hooters doing in the gas station?  And why did Luna bring AppleJack here?  I didn't even know she could do that.  Why is Luna eating so much?  Should I call AppleJack out, or just play along?  This is certainly a bizarre twist from the first dream.  And why 8-tracks, of all things she could use to put music in this dream?  Is it because of the ones I remember?  I remember cassette tapes, too.  Why not those?

"Ah ain't heard much outta y'all," the woman said to Marlon.  "Sum'n on yer mind?"

"N... nothing much.  I'm a little curious is all.  There's nobody else out there; I think something's wrong."

"Well, yer cert'nly right 'bout that.  Not a whole slew'a visitors 'round here, either, but there's usually some business."

*Ding.*

"Ah'l get that," the woman said.  She got up and walked to the entrance.

"Where'a y'all been?  Ah've been waitin' all day fer ya!" she said to the girl coming through the door.

"Ah'm sorry.  The damned car wouldn't start.  Took me forever to get it runnin'."

"OK, fahne.  Look sharp!  We got business!"

The woman returned with a girl, about sixteen.  She had long, crimson hair, a yellow shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots like the woman's.

She wore sunglasses.

"Howdy," the girl said.  She had a heavy southern accent.

"This 'ere's mah sister, Betty," said the woman.  An' I forgot to introduce mahself:  ah'm Janet, but folks call me Jane.  I'd a might prefer if y'all would, too."

AppleBloom?

She sat next to Marlon.  He noticed a large bow in the back of her wavy, red hair.

AppleBloom.  What is she doing here, too?

Everyone was silent.  There was nothing to talk about.  Except-

"Why are you all wearing sunglasses?" asked Marlon.  "We're inside."

"'Cause they were expensive and we're tryin' ta get as much use outta them as possible," Betty said.

"But inside?  Everything must be so dark."

"We like it that way.  We got sensitive eyes, see?" Jane added.

"Oh, yeah?  It seems that everybody I meet here wears sunglasses inside.  I'd expect it from Amy, but not from three other people at various locations."

"Ah say it's a coincidence," Betty said.

"Well can I at least see what your eyes look like?" Marlon asked the two.  "It's really weird not to."

"They're deformed," Betty said guiltily.

"How?"

"Well, mah left one' pupil's too big, and the right one's pointin' inwards.  Mah sister ain't got normal eyelids.  They don't close all the way, see?  They got an extra bitta skin holdin' em open.  Buncha bad genes.  It'll gross ya out.  And I'll bet the third person y'all met just didn't feel like takin' em off fer some reason."

Marlon stared at the two, then decided to play along.

"Alright, if you say so.  I won't pry anymore."

"Can I 'ave a reefeel?" asked Amy.

"Sure thing," Jane said.  She refilled the cup with Coke.  Amy drank it quickly.

"I love thees stuff!" Amy said.

"Well, that's what most folks say."

"Nice sceeneery out'ere," Amy said.  "I love eet."

"Well, that's why we live out here.  Nice'n serene-lahke."

"Are you two from around here?" asked Marlon, desperate for a subject to talk about.

"Nope.  Texas, the both of us."

"Where in Texas?"

"Y'all ever hearda Utopia?"

"Yeah.  Catchy tunes."

"No, not the band.  Talkin 'bout the town Utopia."

"Never heard of it."

"Figures.  Nahs place, really.  Ain't nobody there ta bother ya."

"And you moved up here... why?"

"We lahke the mountains.  Texas ain't got so much."

Silence.  There was nothing to talk about.  A cardinal was *chip*-ping away like mad outside.  The breeze rolled through the open window-flaps.  The radio played uninterrupted.

When you're tired of it all and tears need to fall

When your back's to the wall-come cryin' to me

"Let's go, Reeshard," Amy finally said.  She stood up, and Marlon followed.

"Goodbye," Marlon said to the two southern girls.

"Bye, now.  I'm sorry we couldn't think of more ta talk about," said Jane.

"No, no.  It's fine.  Maybe we'll be back sometime."

"Alrighty, then.  Buh-bye."

Marlon and Amy walked out the door and got into the car.  Marlon started the car and exited the parking lot toward the ramp back to 66.

When the car was out of sight, Amy poofed into the chair she had been in originally back at the Apple House.

"You can take off your glasses now; he's gone," she said in Luna's voice.  Jane and Betty removed their glasses.

"What did you think?" Amy asked.

"I reckon he was a might handsome in his younger years," Jane said.

"He doesn't look that much different now."

"Yeah, but he looks so much more rugged with that jaw-beard," Jane said dreamily.

"Would you like me to-"

"Oh, naw, naw, naw; don't put yerself through the trouble."

"OK, but you know who to call if you change your mind."

"Alrighty."

"Well, 'Betty,' what did you think?"

"He's purdy quiet.  Ain't got much ta say."

"I think he's always like that when nobody's around."

"It's so weird seein' him like that; not at all what he seems in front'a people."

"Indeed.  But he had a really rough childhood; I read his journal before I went to sleep this morning to see if there was anything else I could help him on."

"Uh... Luna?" asked Jane.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me fer askin' ya this, but... why on the first night?"

Amy cocked her head in confusion, then stared down at the table.

"Hm.  Seems he's not the best secret-keeper."

"He didn't tell anybody.  Celestia told us."

Amy's head shot up.

"And ah don't even think he told her.  She just figured it out by his facial expression," Jane continued.

"Oh, brilliant.  All I need now is my sister breathing down my neck."

"Ah don't think she's angry'r nuthin'.  Just wondrin' why you did it so soon."

Amy adopted a thinking pose, resting her chin on her vertical, pushed-together fists.

"Because he was very distressed about his sexual problem, and I thought it would fix it more quickly.  That and he loves having sex with other humans.  I thought, 'why shouldn't that apply for me?  I'm anthropomorphic.'"

Jane studied what she could make out of Amy's facial expression-that which was not covered by the glasses.

"Is there some other reason?"

"No.  Nothing else.  I wanted to help him is all."

"Yer face ain't sayin' that."

"Oh yeah?  What's it saying?"

"'You're a might in love with him' is what it's sayin'.  Sum'n 'bout him's different from all the rest o' them stallions that ya couldn't find on Equestria."

"How could you possibly think that's what my face is saying?"

"Cheek and jaw angle.  Yer lips are still closed, but yer jaw's lower.  Which means yer sad 'bout sum'n.  And them folds in yer skin 'bove yer glasses that came up when I started talkin' 'bout him.  That means you're thinkin' hard 'bout him.  Put 'em together, and ya got mah prediction.  If ah could see yer eyes, ah could be sure."

Amy took off her glasses.

"Yep, just as ah thought.  Li'l twist at the edge."

"Who did you get that gene from?"

"Ah reckon it was mah dad, but ah ain't totally sure."

Amy replaced the glasses.

"And Celestia can do the same?"

"Apparently.  She's even better at it than me."

Amy sighed.

"What will she think of me if she finds out the whole truth?"

"Well, ah dunno.  That ain't never happened before.  Y'all could make it look convincin' enough, though.  All ya gotta do is keep up that human form, and bingo!"

Pause.

"But the better question is:  what made ya so inta him so quick in the first place?"

"Y... you wouldn't understand.  And I mean that.  You literally wouldn't understand."

"If y'all insist, but always remember ah'm here if ya need help.  Even princesses have emotional problems sometimes."

"I'm guessing you got that helpfulness gene from your dad, too."

"Ah suppose."

Amy looked at Betty.

"So what do you think about all this?"

"Well... ah ain't sure ah can relate to that much.  Ah ain't attracted to no humans.  Ah dunno what ya should do.  Ah'd suggest goin' with AJ's idea."

Amy sighed again and rubbed her temples with her thumbs.

"One more question ah got fer ya," Betty said.

"Shoot."

"Who was that other gal he was talkin' bout?"

"Oh, that was Milky Way.  She was curious about him just like you two."

"Can't imagine what his reaction musta been when he saw her."

"Oh, I can imagine," Amy said, looking down at her jacket, where here breasts were.  "What I can't imagine is why humans evolved to have these things up here."

"Neither can ah.  They're feelin' weird up here," said Jane.

"And they don't have panels," Amy added.  The other two girls stared at her, wide-eyed, finding it difficult to imagine having one's equipment-especially male equipment-constantly hanging loose.

"So that's why they always wear pants," Betty said.

"Yep.  And the males have... hair.  Lots of it.  Armpits, chest, back, and genitalia."

The other two girls looked shocked.

"Why'd'ya suppose that is?" asked Betty.

"Probably something to do with... I have no idea."

"Is that... attractive to them?"

"I'm not sure.  Maybe not to some.  I'd imagine their sexual preferences differ as much as ours."

The two girls stared at each other awkwardly, in a "should we really be talking about this?" look.

"Uh, Luna?  It ain't that we don't find all'a that sexy stuff interestin', but... uh... ah dunno how to put it," Jane said.

"It feels a li'l off to be talkin' so deeply about the reproduction habits'a other species, 's what she's tryin' ta say," Betty added.

"Oh.  OK.  I'm sorry about that," Amy said with only the smallest twinge of guilt in her voice.  "As you know, I make it my job to keep up on that sort of thing, and their 'habits' don't seem so much different than ours.  I should know; I snuck a sexy-science book from Marlon's bookshelf.  Apparently, he's really interested in the psychology," Amy elaborated, obviously interested in the one-sided conversation.

"That's nice ta hear'n all, but as ah said before, it's purdy weird, hearin 'bout the sexual habits'a some other species."

"But Jane thinks he looked handsome.  This could be useful information for her," Amy said excitedly.

"Look, Luna.  Ah thought we agreed-if ah changed mah mind on it, ah'd let ya know.  There ain't nothin' goin' on now."

"I meant for future reference.  You know-if you do change your mind."

Jane sighed to herself exasperatedly.

"Weren't there other ponies who wanted to see him?" Jane asked.

"Yeah, but I figure my other consciousness isn't out there yet.  Still got quite a ways to go."

"But you should get them now and tell 'em their lines 'n stuff so they'll have time to prepare."

Amy considered.

"I suppose you're right.  I'll go and get them."

"What about us?  When do we get outta this place?"

"When he wakes up.  Need I re-explain the dream sharing limitations?"

"Naw.  Ah know, ah know.  But can ya at least-"

Jane stopped herself.

"What?"

"Nuthin'.  Nuthin'."

"Alright then.  Try and explore a little.  It'll do you good.  By the way, nice save on the eye thing, 'Betty.'"

"Thanks."

Amy stood up and poofed away.  No smoke cloud, no fading, nothing.  Her disappearance was like a blank cell in a whole movie reel.

"Give 'er an inch, she'll take a mile," Jane said.

Betty snickered.

"Oh, y'all know what ah mean!"  She paused.  "Guess it's mah fault fer callin' him handsome."

"She's like one'a them salesponies back home; show any interest and yer half past bucked."

"Yeah.  And by the way, ah ain't sure if she brought Milky Way just 'cause she was curious 'bout Marlon.  Somethin' in her eyes was hintin' at a double meanin'."

"Prob'ly wanted to see if he'd get hard from seein' her."

"That actually makes a bushel'a sense."

"What was y'all 'bout ta say ta her 'fore she left?"

"Was gonna ask if she could put something interesting to do in this dream, but ah can imagine what she woulda done then."

Richard?  Jane.  Jane?  Richard.  Alright.  Apples' Assholes, take 1!  Action!

"Ya designate expertise on all night-time activities to one pony, and ya get this."

Jane poured herself a Coke and sat back down at the table quietly, sipping.  The cardinal resumed its *chip*-ping.  John Fogerty sang on the radio.

Forward troubles Illinois; lock the front door, oh boy!

Look at all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn

Bother me tomorrow; today I'll buy no sorrows

Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door

Marlon took an exit ramp off of 66 which let out at a small intersection in front of a Target.  He turned left onto a road that ran between two mountains.  Neither had spoken much; Marlon could not address the topic of the two girls without blowing his "I totally know about all of this" cover.  The only interesting thing that happened was that Amy switched to a blue Three Dog Night tape.

How many of those does she have?

The tape took a few seconds to finish the third program, then *ca-chung*-ed into An Old Fashioned Love Song.

The car passed a Shell station on its right and came up on a massive bridge, which led into downtown Front Royal.  The bridge was outfitted with old-style streetlights on each side, and passed over a massive field far below.  The green sea reminded Marlon of the water below the Fred Hartman bridge.  He remembered the Bachman-Turner Overdrive playing on his radio, completely unaware of the suicidal mother.

And would you cry if I told you that I lied?

And would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?

Marlon could say goodbye, but he could never let it ride.

Mountains decorated both sides of the bridge in the distance.  This, coupled with the small town ahead, made the scene look like it had been pulled from a model train layout.  The only difference was that Marlon was not made of plastic (the last time he checked).

"I'm hungry as fuck," Amy said through the Winston in her mouth.

"You sure are hungry today," Marlon observed.

"I'm not sure why.  It seems like I haven't eaten in days."

"Don't worry.  I know a place."

Marlon drove the car straight on through the road that ran behind the town (which included another bridge over another green sea).  He passed multiple gas stations, car repair shops, and shit motels.  He turned left when he reached the Shell station across from a pizza joint.  To the right of the car lay a small cluster of stores at the bottom of a small grade.  Directly above the stores lay an ornate, but small, hotel.

Marlon pulled into the parking lot of a small drive-thru place.  The sign above the marquee board read, Spelunker's.  Marlon had eaten out here multiple times during his college days.  It was the only Spelunker's in the U.S., most likely because they refused to allow it anywhere else except deep in the Blue Ridges.  He always described it as "Five Guys times 2," since the burgers were so greasy that they fell apart in the eater's hands.  There was no point in trying to keep the grease from getting on the table; it would bleed through the wrapper.  Woe to the poor bastards who actually used the drive-thru.

There were three cars in the parking lot.

"Never heard of eet," Amy said when Marlon turned off the car.

"Exactly."

They got out of the car and walked inside.

The dining room was about the same size as any Wendy's dining room.  The room looked surreal due to the blue backrests on the booths and cushions on the small chairs at the equally small tables.  Behind the counter, the building's age showed.  The menu was ancient and bleached, like a bowling alley menu.  The beige paint browned in some places, and the kitchen area was dimly lit and the dullest possible grey.  The drive-thru window graced the left wall behind the counter, next to a shake machine and an ice cream cone dispenser.  An island across from the counter housed the soda fountain and lids.  A rubber mat on the floor kept leaking soda from getting all over the damn place.

Three people in blue Spelunker's shirts were on the dismal side of the counter.  Two in the kitchen area, checking on the fries, and one near the counter.  It was a college-age woman-early twenties.  She had long, blond hair.  Her back was all that was visible, since she was muddling around near the drive-thru window.

"Oh, where are they, where are they?" Marlon heard her whisper in a high voice.  She never turned toward the two people on the other side of the counter.

Marlon saw a pair of black aviators next to one of the cash registers, next to the jumble of table number-stands.  He picked them up.

"Excuse me?" he said to the woman.  She did not appear to hear him.  "Excuse me?" he said again.  No answer, not even from the people in the back.  "Are you looking for these?" he asked, holding up the aviators.

She whipped around.

"Oh!  You found the-"

She stopped dead.  She stared wide-eyed at Marlon.  He stared back with an equal expression.  Now he knew why everyone was wearing sunglasses.

Her eyes were yellow.

There was no distinction between iris and pupil-just one round, pink ball in the middle of yellow scleras.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

The woman gulped, then made a small squeaking noise from the depths of her throat.  She nervously moved to the counter.  Her face was quite small, and the closer the eyes got to Marlon, the creepier they seemed.  She stared at the aviators, but did not take them.  There was no point anymore.  She moved to the register directly in front of him and stared some more.

"W... welcome to Spelunker's," she said quietly.

It's Fluttershy.

"Why are your eyes yellow?" Marlon asked.

"Yellow?  I haven't noticed."

"Yeah.  Yellow.  With pink pupils."

"Are you sure?  I thought my pupils were black like yours."

"Oh, give it up, Fluttershy.  He knows it's you," Amy said in Luna's voice.

Fluttershy (or, "Faye," judging by her nametag) stared back at Amy.

"I... I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to screw things up," she said.  She looked like she was about to cry again.

Batten down the hatches, boys!  Poseidon's pissed!

"You didn't screw anything up, really.  He just knows it's you now."

"B... but he wasn't supposed...."

"Oh, relax," Marlon said.  "I knew it was AppleJack and AppleBloom back there.  And I know that Amy is really Luna.  I was just playing along the whole time."

"Y... you... you were?"

"Yeah.  I'm not stupid."

"What gave it away?" Luna asked.

"The fading into blue at the beginning of the dream.  And the fact that you're the only one who has the ability to make me fully conscious during dreams.  And that you like Earth's rock music.  And you were the only other one in this dream for a while."

"Shit!" Luna said quietly to herself.

"But couldn't you have just read my mind to figure out if I was catching on earlier to think of a better diversion?"

"Well, I figured that if you got too suspicious, AppleJack and AppleBloom could make up better excuses, so I never really bothered.  Mind-reading within a dream isn't incredibly hard, but it requires a lot of concentration.  I was already 'in the zone' when you got into the first dream, and I only read your mind a little.  I find my job more interesting when I get to find out about the other party from them, rather than just reading their minds to distinguish personalities all the time.  It's more... personal, I suppose?"

"Understandable.  But on a different note, what do your eyes look like?" Marlon asked.

Luna took off her glasses to reveal shiny black scleras with one extremely narrow, royal-blue iris hovering in each's center.

"And AppleJack's and AppleBloom's?"

"First:  orange with yellow centers.  Second:  yellow with red centers.  And for whatever reason, color-changing spells are some of the hardest spells to pull off.  It takes an extreme amount of magic energy to remove all traces of our original colors.  But even if only a bit of color is kept, it's not that difficult."

"Are there any other... ponies here I should know about?"

"Come out, guys, he knows!" Luna said to the two people in the back.  They both walked out.  Neither wore sunglasses.  It must not have seemed necessary, since they would most likely remain back there for the entire dream.

Both looked college-age, one man and one woman.  The former wore a black emover and had a long face, spotted with red zit remains.  His eyes were purple with green centers.  The latter's hair was spiky and a shiny red, and her face vaguely resembled Anne Hathaway's, but with much sharper features and bleached skin.  Her eyes were blue with centers that glowed like cat eyes.  They glowed a different color depending on the angle one viewed them.

"Hey," the latter said in Dashie's voice.

"Hey," the former said in a voice much different than Spike's.  It sounded like how he looked.

"What are you all doing here?" asked Marlon.

"I brought them here (obviously).  They wanted to see what you were really like-without all the pressure of talking to aliens.  They wanted to get to know you better by observing you incognito."

"What about Rarity?"

"She didn't want to.  She wanted to keep her 'beauty sleep' and is under the false impression that dream-sharing alters one's physical being.  It doesn't."

"How did you bring them here?"

"I went into their dreams and asked them if they'd like to see what you were really like, deep down.  I thought it would help to alleviate any nervousness they felt towards you.  If they agreed, I magically transported their consciousnesses to your dream."

"Did you use your clone to do that?"

"Yes, but I could have done it without the clone.  I could have stopped dream time and gone to get them without you ever noticing."

"You can stop time?"

"Not real time.  Dream time.  When I perform that spell that allows time to go by more slowly in a dream than in real time, I'm increasing the speed at which your brain processes the dream.  If one were to look in on your dream from the outside, it would be greatly sped up, which means that it would take place in a much shorter span of real time."

"Damn.  That's heavy."

"Indeed.  Frankly, I'm surprised you understand it.

Now, as you can probably tell, I've been quite hungry this whole time.  That's because I'm using a massive amount of magic in keeping all of you here, and food helps to keep my stamina up.  Of course it won't kill me if I don't have any, but I might develop a headache within a few hours."

"And you want to eat here?"

"What's wrong with it?  Looks fine to me."

"Nothing, really, but it's cow meat here.  And it's super-greasy.  The burgers fall apart in your hands sometimes from the grease's weight."

"Who says I don't like cow meat?  We had it back home."

"Nobody, but I remember your buddies saying that you guys didn't eat meat much."

"Well, not much.  It was expensive back home, so we mostly ate grass and other assorted plants, but for special occasions, there was nothing more I loved than a good, hearty cow steak.  And by special occasions, I mean 'whenever I got hungry in a dream,' but now, I want to try some more genuine Earth food."

"I didn't eat any meat," Dashie chimed in.

You don't say!

"Really?  You don't know what you're missing!"

"Well, it was expensive!  I never really thought it'd be worth it."

"Well, we'll have to remedy that.  You can't go living your life without any meat; the protein's good for you!"

"I seemed to do OK back home."

"Just a bite?" Luna asked, making a tiny space between her right thumb and index finger and smiling exaggeratedly.

"He said it was greasy!  You can't just go polluting a body as athletic as this with stuff like that willy-nilly!"

Luna made the gap smaller, keeping the smile.

"Oh, come on, Luna!"

Smaller.

"You're not seriously pulling this agai-"

Smaller.

"There's nothing special about meat."

Smaller.

"Imagine a single atom between my two fingers," Luna said through the grin.

"Trust her, Dashie.  It's really good.  A little bite won't hurt you," Marlon said.

"Oh, now you're in on this?"

"A quark.  Imagine a quark between my fingers," Luna said.

"OK, fine!  I'll try some.  Just don't bother me about this ever again, OK?"

"Deal," said Luna.  "But you'll liiiiiiiiiiike iiiiiiiit," she said in a stereotypical "tooooold yooooou" tone of voice.

"How are we supposed to make this, though?" asked Spike.

"Good question.  See if there's an instruction sheet on the wall back there.  Maybe it'll shed some light on the situation," Luna said.  Her voice was becoming slightly desperate.

Spike walked back to the kitchen and rotated to scan the walls.

"Ah!  Here we go!"

He pulled down a laminated sheet from the wall and brought it to the counter.  Luna stared down at the odd instructions and pondered violently.

"Hm.  Looks simple enough.  They had these back home, but they never caught on, since meat was so expensive."

"Why was it so expensive?"

"Because cows were sentient back home.  Slaughterhouse workers were paid much extra to make up for the fact that they knew they were killing sentient beings."

"But why would you kill something you know is sentient?"

"Because they tasted good, that's why.  It's not like we tortured them or anything.  A quick chop across the neck from a converted drop-forge, and all their troubles were over in a second.  Wouldn't even know what hit 'em.  And we would know, since we studied cow anatomy and found out where their nerve endings weren't."

"Wouldn't they hold a grudge against your people for killing them?"

"They were sentient, not smart.  And they didn't do anything as a revolt in the thousands of years we lived with them."

Marlon remembered the Far Side cartoon with the cow with the giant head-the one that knew something was awry in the slaughterhouse yard.  He quickly dismissed the idea.  He knew where meat came from:  animals, where else?  And better for him to dismiss the idea now before he began to think like an overzealous hippie.

"Do you think you could whip one of these up, Spike?" Luna asked, turning her head upwards at a bizarre angle to make eye contact with Spike.

"I... guess so.  But I'm not sure if I'll do it right.  Wouldn't your magic be able to make one in a zip?"

"Can you do me a solid here?  I'm really tired right now.  Don't worry, I'll owe you one."

"Well, alright.  I guess I'll give it a shot.  C'mon Dashie."

"Why do I have to make it?"

"You don't.  You can get the fries."

Dashie sighed.

"Alright, fine."

The two walked back to the kitchen.  Fluttershy had nervously stared at Luna the whole time.

"Uh, Luna?" she asked quietly, tapping a leather-clad shoulder that faced the opposite direction.

"Yes?"

"Who's that?"

Fluttershy was pointing to the parking lot.  A light-grey Camry was pulling in.

Hm-hm, Luna said under her breath.

Another twenty-something-year-old got out of the car.  She wore a pink tracksuit.  Her hair was pink and reached just past the small of her back, but was frizzy around the ends, as if she had touched a Van de Graaf generator.  When she got inside, Marlon saw that her eyes were completely pink-no trace of pupils or irises.  She walked to the counter and stared at the menu.  Luna stepped aside.  Marlon saw a small bit of pink hair stuck out from one of her sleeves.

Oh God!  It's arm hair!

Other bits of hair stuck out from the tops of her shoes, where the pant legs ended.

Is that supposed to be Pinkie?

"C... can I help you?" Fluttershy asked the pink person.

No reply.

"Uh... um... excuse me?"

No reply.  The pink woman's face studied the menu intently.  Her eyes widened as she focused on one of the items.  She let out a high, airy, gasp.

"Do you see something you want?"

A smile shot onto the pink woman's face.  Another gasp.  Fluttershy switched her stare to Luna.

"Uh, Luna?  Who... is this?"

The pink woman stuck out her tongue and made a raspberry sound.  Fluttershy jumped and let out a small squeak at the spit stream.

"Do you remember her?" Luna asked Fluttershy.  She poofed up a Polaroid-esque film cell and gave it to Fluttershy.  She stared at the picture, then at the pink woman.  Picture.  Woman.  Picture.  Woman.

"Yes, but it's been so long," Fluttershy said, giving the cell back to Luna, who poofed it away without a trace.  "Why is she here?"

"Multiple reasons."

Another raspberry.  Fluttershy looked to where the pink woman's finger was pointing:  the Double Cavern Burger.

"You want a double cavern burger?" asked Fluttershy.  Raspberry.  Jump.  Squeak.

"That's not Pinkie, right?" Marlon asked Luna.

"No.  Her name's Fluffle Puff.  She doesn't talk much, due to an overly-thick esophagus that doesn't let large amounts of air through easily.  Ironically, she doesn't have any trouble with breathing or eating.  She can talk, but mostly resorts to raspberries and gasps."

"And the 'Fluff' part comes from the hair?"

"Yes.  Here's her picture."

Luna poofed the picture back into existence and showed it to Marlon.  The pony on the cell was nothing like any of the others.  The rest of the ponies had visible bodies, but this one's was covered by poofy, pink hair.  Even the face was lined with it.  No neck, torso, or legs were visible; she was literally a ball of fuzz.

"What's the evolutionary purpose of that?"

"None anymore.  When our race was first evolving millions of years ago, it was normal for ponies to grow extreme amounts of fur to protect them from the intense Equestrian winters.  When the ponies learned to build warm houses, the gene eventually faded away.  But Fluffle Puff's bloodline never dropped it; she's a living piece of history.  There's no point in shaving it off; it grows back in minutes."

"Does she have a Cutie Mark?"

"Yes.  Ham."

"Ham?"

"That's right.  A cured hock of ham."

"What talent does that correspond to?"

"I have no idea.  She never tells anypony."

Sizzling and beeping rang from the back.

"How are the fries holding up?" asked Spike.

"I think they're done," Dashie replied.

"OK.  How do you know?"

"Do you not hear the beeping timer?"

"Well, who knows how long they were in there before we got here?"

"Do you really think that matters?"

"Sure it does!  They could be overly stiff!"

Heh-heh.

"Why don't you just try one?  You're a dragon; heat shouldn't bother you."

"But I'm not in my dragon body anymore, am I, Dashie?"

"Can't you just come here and look at 'em if you're so obsessed?"

"This patty needs attention; I can't just leave it here."

"For two seconds?"

"Hey, two seconds can make a lot of difference."

Spike's arm could be seen, pointing to parts of the instruction sheet.  He pulled the patty off the grill and onto an auxiliary counter.  He pulled the various toppings out from containers on the counter, and assembled the burger carefully.

"What's wrong with this thing?  Keeps falling apart on itself!"

"Did you forget that these things are supposed to be greasy?"

"No, but this is insane!"

"OK, now that you're done, can you get these fries?"

"Alright, have it your way."

Spike turned his head and leaned to get a good view of the fries.

"OK, they're good."

"That's it?  You didn't even have to move!"

"Just get the fries out."

Dashie took the basket out of the frying oil and dumped them into a fry repository.

"So now what?"

"Put 'em in a bag, that's what!  Don't you remember how they did it back home?"

Dashie took the large fry scooper and funneled the fries into a miniature cardboard receptacle (basket?), which she then placed on a large, blue tray.  She mumbled something unintelligible to herself.

Spike finally got the damn burger assembled and wrapped it with care.  He put the thing on the tray, next to the fries.  He brought the tray to the counter.

"Here you go, Luna.  One dream-Earth burger."

"All riiight!"

Luna took the tray to a row of crammed-together tables behind the soda island.  The half pointing back towards the island was lined with chairs, while the other was lined by a long booth seat.  Luna sat on the latter side.

"Everybody come over here and get cups for yourselves; there's no need to make anything else!"

Everybody did so.  Marlon sat next to Luna and across from Fluttershy.  He could faintly smell flowers and mown grass.

Luna stared at her tray intently, then at the table space in front of each person.

Poof.

Clones of the tray, burger, and fries appeared from nowhere in front of each person.

"It's easier to clone stuff when I'm basing it on a real object first," Luna explained to Marlon.  "Now get drinks-all of you.  I'd imagine you'll need them."

Once again, everybody did so.  They got to the fountain and poured their drinks, with a range of Dr. Pepper to Barq's.  Fluttershy was the last in line, and had trouble deciding which drink she should take.  She was frightened as to whether the sodas on Earth tasted bad; they could be much different than the ones on Equestria.

Luna took Fluttershy's cup and filled it with Coke, like she did with her own.

"You'll love it.  Trust me."

"Uh... OK."

When all of them had sat down, Luna began:  "So, I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here today."

"Not really," Dashie said.

"SHHH!!  It sounds cooler that way!" Luna said through her teeth.  She then looked to each person at the table.

"Does anyone wonder why I've called you all here today?"

No answer.  Only Marlon raised his hand.

"Yes.  Richard, I believe?"

"Why are we here.  Of all places to call people together, why'd you pick Front Royal?"

"I didn't pick it.  You did.  I only set up the world based on your memories as we went along."

"Why the 8-tracks?"

"I used a memory that was so far-back that it would make this dream a little more interesting.  As you may know, I like to be unorthodox.  I generated the tapes from the songs and albums you actually remembered.  Actually, that reminds me-"

The speakers on the ceiling began to play Scenes From an Italian Restaurant.

"Much better."

(A bottle of white, a bottle of red, perhaps a bottle of rose iiinstead)

"Why did you pick Amy to dress up as?"

"Would you rather see me as Lanie?" she asked sarcastically.

Lanie!

Marlon stared at his tray for an indefinite amount of time.

"I didn't think so," Luna continued.  "I picked a figure from your memory who didn't have quite a large... place."

"Who's Lanie?" Dashie asked.

"IIIIIIIII wouldn't recommend asking that," Luna said.

"Lanie...," Marlon whispered.  "Why'd you have to bring it up?"

"Who... who's Lanie?" Dashie asked again with nervousness in her voice.

"Take a look at this," Luna said.  Her eyes glowed a bright white, and Dashie's followed.  Luna was accessing a memory.  For a single second, Marlon could not see the dining room.  He saw the desk where he had first met her.  Study hall period.  Lanie right across from him in her loud, green jacket.

Spelunker's came back into view, and all the people with it.  They were all staring at Dashie, who kept still with her white eyes.  Marlon remembered what Luna had said about the memories:  he would know if she was accessing them.  Fortunately, he did not have to relive them firsthand.

Fifteen dream-minutes passed, and some of the people had finished their food already.  Marlon knew why it was taking this long.  Dashie was being given a firsthand look at Marlon's history with Lanie.

The white glow faded from both of their eyes.  Luna immediately dove into her burger.  By now, the speakers had gone through the completely-unrelated-to-any-Billy-Joel-song-whatsoever Italian Leather Sofa and picked up on Hey Jealousy.

"Tho now ya know," she said through a full mouth.

(But tomorrow we can drive around this town and let the cops chase us around)

Dashie stared at her, then at the table, then at Marlon.  Her eyes were wide.

"But that's not fair," she said to herself.  Then, to Marlon, "So that's why you-"

"Yes," he said quietly.  "That's why."

"B... but that didn't make any sense," she said to Luna.

"I don't think it wath thuppothed to."

Dashie stared down at her tray as Marlon had.

"Don't tell anyone, OK?" Marlon asked quietly.

"No.  No, I won't."

None of the others spoke.  They were afraid to ask about the memory.  Luna began on the fries.

Dashie took a bite out of her burger.  She chewed thoughtfully.  Grease ran down her fingers.

"Well, ith better than I exthpected."

"Told you."

Dashie continued to eat her burger, saying nothing, and holding no expression on her face.  The burger eventually fell apart under its own grease-weight.  Dashie ate the rest with a fork she brought from the island.

"Hafta do some good workin' out to get rid of this."

"No need.  Have you forgotten this is a dream?" Luna said with a fry in her mouth.

"You're right," Dashie said quietly.

"Well, that's the price you pay for understanding stuff," Luna said in response to Dashie's inaudible and possibly nonexistent question.  "Any other questions?" she asked the rest of them as Machinehead hit its first verse.

(I spin on a whim, I slide to the right.  I felt you like electric light)

Spike raised his hand.

"Spike?"

"What else is there to do around here?"

"You mean in Front Royal?" Marlon replied.

"Yeah."

"Uh....  There's an antique store, a little store similar to it that sells stuff that isn't quite as old, a general store, another general store, a bunch of mountains, a book store that sells every book that could ever imaginably exist, and... that's about it."

"Twilight would like that store that sells books.  She's violently obsessed with 'em."

Luna looked around at each person.

"Well, you all came here to see Richard in his natural habitat, so let's go somewhere and stare at him!" Luna announced.

Marlon stared back with a puzzled expression.

"That's an interesting way to put it."

"Meh.  I try."

Everyone finished their food and got rid of the trash.  Most took refills for the road.  Everyone walked out to their respective cars except for Dashie.

"You go ahead, I'll wait up," she said to the rest.  As Marlon was about to walk out the door, Dashie stopped him:  "Uh, Rich?  C... could you come back for a sec?"

Marlon sat back in his seat.  Dashie had already returned to hers.

"Why do you still wear the tie?"

"Dashie, p... please don't make me talk about it."

"But I'm curious; it doesn't make sense why you still wear the tie."

"But can't you sort of... infer?"

"No.  Not really."

"I don't like telling people.  It's one of those things that you'd probably like to, but hate to form the words."

"But what have you got to lose in telling me?"

"I'll tell you what I have to lose:  my reputation.  You'll think I'm an even bigger wimp."

"No, no.  You're not a wimp.  I'll admit I would have thought it if I'd just seen that last bit, but seeing the whole story made it clear:  you're not a wimp."

"Says you.  You're not from Earth."

"So?  Worked the same back home, from what I can tell."

"What's your definition of a wimp, then?"

"Somebody who quits for no good reason.  There's justified quitting, and there's wimpy quitting.  And you didn't do either."

"Look, I don't see a real need to go into this."

"But the curiosity is killing me!"

Marlon sighed, then began:  "It's a reminder."

"But why?  Why would you want to remember that so often?"

"I'm not trying to remember the porch.  Only the time I was walking on air.  It was the last time I-"

Why am I talking about this?

"-actually felt a bit of hope back home."

"Does that... happen a lot on Earth?"

"I can't say for sure.  None of my friends back then had it happen that way, but I can't speak for the rest of the world."

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"Senior year.  And not even full conversations or anything.  Just 'hi's in the hall."

"But why do you have to think so much of it?  It's been so long."

"Because it was the final straw.  It was the final thing that convinced me that I would never go back to Nebraska out of free will.  The only other times I've gone back were on my campaign trails; I had to go to Lincoln to win support.  It reminds me of my mission, or, 'anti-mission.'  And as I said, the weeks leading up to it were the last ray of hope for life in Nebraska.  'It's a big state,' I thought.  'I can move super-far-away from my mom.'"

Why am I telling you this?  What do you care?

"How did it end with your friends?"

"The girl never dumped the guy.  It was always the other way around.  And they would show off for the months they were together.  Smooching right in front of me all the goddam time.  And if their stories were true, they always got laid.  Couple times a week."

Marlon let his eyes wander to the window, towards the parking lot.  Luna was staring back inside, her glasses back on.

She knows.  This is a dream, and just like last time, she knows!  She knew Dashie would want to talk about it!

"Must have felt awful."

"It did.  Normally, I would have gotten over her in a few weeks, but I would see her all the time in school.  I didn't have any classes with her, though.  Just saw her in the halls."

"Did she ever kiss you at all?"

"No.  I should have.  I was too scared of my dad's advice to, though."

"When was your first?"

"Fourteen, with a girl who did a 180 and ditched me on the spot.  Never understood that, either.  Four years passed before I did it again."

She knows.  She's using Dashie to get me to talk about it.  And why the fuck is it working?

"Hey look, I think we ought to go.  Everybody's waiting for us," Marlon finally said.

"Yeah.  Yeah.  We should."

"One question before we go, though."

"What's that?"

"Why are you so interested?"

Dashie paused.

"I need to justify myself."

"Justify?"

"Yeah.  I need to know that... I'm not the only one."

"Only one who what?"

She sighed.

"Only one who had to wait too long."

"You have a similar story?"

"Yeah.  But we should go now.  You're right."

They stood up.

Marlon walked to the door and was about to open it when Dashie grabbed his shoulder and wung him around.

"This is for Lanie," she said, and planted a massive, wet smooch dead-center on his lips.  She grabbed his back and pulled herself in with squeezing force.  She stood there, staring into Marlon's shocked eyes for at least ten seconds.  There was an extremely faint smell of post-storm summer air.  Marlon noticed that she emitted an extreme amount of body heat; it was like standing next to a heat lamp.  He imagined that it was Lanie on the other end of his lips, and that that cold October night was ending as it should have.  Dashie pulled back and walked to her car without a word.  Marlon did the same.  The music (now Glycerine) came to an abrupt halt when he entered the mudroom.

Dashie entered her light-blue Prius and switched the engine on.  She had not told Marlon (he had never asked, as she had hoped; she had acted like she had not seen anything besides the obvious), but Luna had not only showed her Marlon's history with Lanie.  She had also showed clips from his home life.  Dashie would never forget the haunting image of the woman coming at the young Richie with a frying pan in the right hand, a Bible in the other.  Or the images of an even younger Marlon being savagely beaten by the church kids, while the other adults ignored him.  The scariest one was of the frying-pan woman slowly dragging a cleaver across the top of her right wrist, which was being used to hold open a Bible.  A low, rhythmic chant came from the woman's mouth.  Occasionally, the syllables were almost sung:

If your right hand (hand, hand, hand) c-c-c-causes you to si-i-i-i-i-n, c-c-c-cut it off and th-th-th-throw it away (way, way, way). A young boy's voice piped in, possibly nine, saying, Mom?  Are you OK?  Mom....  NO!  MOM!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO YOURSELF?!

C-c-c-come over here, Ri-i-ichard, my son.  I am God, s-s-s-speaking through your m-m-m-mother (mother, mother, mother).

M...mom?

Marlon moved closer to the horrific woman.  Her hair was frizzled, and her face was blanched.  Light from a sunset shone through unseen window blinds, making the kitchen seem cold and almost (industrial?).  Dashie would never forget the next image.  The one that would be burned into her head deeper than any other:

Look, Richard.  I am happy.  Look at the sign in your mother's blood (blood, blood, blood).

A large, red, exclamation-point-shaped stain sat on the page, nearly covering the whole thing.  It was obvious that the woman had made it herself, since the mark was jagged and showed signs of movement of the bloody wrist across the paper.  Dashie had immediately remembered a time in preschool, when she had hoofpainted "I love mommy!" (in red, of course) onto a piece of paper as a Mother's Day gift.  She had used the paint that had streaked across her leg slightly above the hoof-

Wrist.

-to make the dot on the exclamation point, so as not to waste any.  Her mother had given her a large hug in return come Mother's Day.

N... no.  Mom.  God didn't make it.  You did.  You did.  God didn't do it.

The cleaver blade slammed down into the kitchen counter, causing the tiles to shatter.  The frying pan woman lifted it back out with force, and gently batted at the wrist again with the blade, producing a faint *chok* with each bat.

I did do it, my son.  Do not deny me, or else I will cause your mother to kill you.  Blasphemers will not be tolerated in my kingdom.  Repent or suffer the eternal punishment.

The frying pan woman's voice was low and toneless.  Spoken like a true maniac.

I'll call a doctor!  Who knows how much blood you'll lose?

The woman whipped around in the blink of an eye (quite impressive for someone her weight) and touched the blade against Marlon's cheek before he could move away.  Her eyes stared directly into his, unblinking.  Emotionless.

Dead.

The left hand had the cleaver handle in a death-grip, and held the blade perfectly steady against Marlon's skin, the edge ready to dive into the hinge of his jaws.

Do... not... blaspheme, my son.  You will not only suffer the pain of Hell, but the pain of your mother's Hell before you go.  You will be punished for your sins, as your mother was punished for hers.  The sins of the fathers are passed down through the generations, which makes you as guilty as your father.

The dead voice again.  After a few closed-eyed seconds from the frying pan woman, the cleaver retracted and began batting again.

Your mother will be instructed to stop before she dies of blood loss.  I will keep her from the door of death.

After that, the image of the frying pan woman jumping off that bridge.

And would you cry if I told you that I lied?

And would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?

It made Dashie happy to see that thing die.  That was when the history with Lanie began.

Dashie turned up the air conditioner to full blast.  Tears soundlessly flowed from her eyes.

Marlon got into the car next to Luna and started it.  She switched out the tape for Toto's Hydra.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I guess I'll show them main street; I don't know what else to do out here."

Luna tapped the car next to Marlon's (Fluffle Puff's) and mouthed, Follow us!  Pass it on!

Marlon shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.  The other cars followed.  He led them to Front Royal's old town main street.  Each car picked a spot at the beginning of the street, near the Alvin B. Stokes general store.  Once again, no cars were visible in any of the parking lots on the way there-KFC, Big Lots, 7-Eleven, some dumpy motel.  Nothing.

The six of them exited their cars and walked to the front of the general store, meeting Luna near an ancient Coke machine.

"Well, here we are," Luna said.  "Welcome to the land that time forgot."

The newcomers to the area (everyone except for Marlon) gazed at the world around them.  The road stretched on for a great length, ending at a bank with a dot-matrix marquee board in the distance.  The road's main eye-catcher was a massive building that had been converted into a tavern.  Judging by the worn label on its side, it was originally some sort of feed plant.  Trees and occasional benches lined either side halfway down the road, where the shops on either side began.

A cardinal *chip*-ped.  Fluttershy whirled around on her heels to see where the bird was, and was surprised to see it sitting in a large tree next to the store.

"Oh!  It's so cute!" she exclaimed.

"It's a cardinal," Marlon said.  "It's Virginia's state bird.  There was a tree in front of my first apartment that had a family of 'em living in it.  Though I'm not sure what it's doing in the dream."

"Atmospheric purposes," Luna said.

"Are there other bird types on Earth?" Fluttershy asked eagerly.

"Thousands.  And most of them are pretty damn cute."

"Oh!  I love birds!  I used to take care of them back home."

"Well, birds on Earth aren't so personal.  They don't like people coming too close to them, else they fly away."

"Oh, well that's OK.  Maybe they'll like me better if I'm back in pony form."

The red bird flew from the tree to brighten the atmosphere somewhere else.

"Holy shit," Spike said.  He stared through the window at a massive bear trap inside.  A green tag revealed a 400 dollar price.  He walked inside the open door to check the place out more thoroughly.  The rest followed.

"Oh!  I almost forgot!" Luna said.  She closed her eyes and-

Poof.

"Jane" and "Betty" appeared next to the Coke machine.  Their sunglasses were still on, and they stumbled at the shock of being teleported.  "Betty" clung to the side of the Coke machine to keep from falling off the sharp drop to a gravel side-driveway below.

"Come on, I think you'll like this place," Luna said.

'Least it ain't Apples' Assholes.

"Ah assume we can take the glasses off now?"

"Yes.  Go ahead."

"'Bout time!  Them things is dark!"

The two sisters removed their glasses.  Luna had been right.  Orange and yellow; yellow and red.  The latter was insanely creepy.

Directly inside the store was a large selections of various hunting equipment.  The store stretched ahead for two hundred feet or so.  Nearer to the back were massive quantities of work clothes and boots.

"Shee-oot," AppleJack said quietly.  She and Betty slowly made their way to the back of the place.

"So now what?" Dashie asked.  Fortunately, the lachrymal evidence had disappeared.

"Now," Luna said, kicking in the glass to a knife display case, "we look around this place and see if there's anything interesting to do."  She took a massive, G-shaped hunting knife out of the case and examined it carefully.

"Why'd you have to kick it in?" Marlon asked.

"Because this is a dream and there are no legal repercussions and I didn't want to go all the way around to the back of the case because there's too much junk back there and it looked like fun.  Any more questions?"  Luna replied with a massive finishing smile.

The group waded through the narrow main aisle.  Various target supplies and winter coats littered the right end of the place, behind the knives, and the left was riddled with more winter coats and jeans.  Marlon noticed that something was missing from the latter side of the store.

"You programmed this place from memory, right?"

"Yeah, so it might not be a hundred percent accurate." Luna replied.  She had been staring at the laser sights in the display case next to the knives.  The G-shaped knife was in a holster around her waist.

"But where's the rest of the stuff over here?  I remember that."

"What stuff?"

"The sa-"

"SSSHHHH!!" Luna said through her teeth, covering Marlon's mouth.  She knew that he was about to say "the saddle stuff," but tried to coax him away from the subject with a weak "what stuff?" question.  That side of the store had originally been dedicated to saddles and other horse-related accessories.

"They've never seen a real one before; I only know what they look like from one of your books-it had a horse on the front.  I want 'em to be really surprised when they first see one.  Seeing a real saddle would give away their size."

Marlon knew what the book was:  A Slightly Altered History of Gracefulness, by his old friend Corey Suthner.  It was a humor novel about a businessman who secretly sells cocaine to television writers who write TV shows based on their drug-fueled inspirations.  Marlon remembered one of his favorite scenes from the book:  the writers were forced to throw out a shoot of Barney the Dinosaur humping a glass-filled recycling bin, yelling to the camera that kids should only do this with grand-parental supervision.  The other thrown-out shoot was where Barney used a bottle of Icehouse as a fleshlight, only to wind up with his purple, green-spotted dick stuck inside.  He slammed the bottle against the tree in the playground to break off the end, causing yellow jizz to stain the bark.  He then chased his dinosaur pals around the playground while waving his dripping penis back and forth madly, threatening to "stuck" (a cross between "stab" and "fuck") them.  The janitor solved the problem by sitting in the idea chair.  Barney ran over to stuck him, but had his dickhead stuck in the slats of the chair just as the janitor got back up.  The janitor then spun the chair with such force that Barney had his purple, green-spotted dick ripped off, leaving only the green, yellow-haired balls behind among a wash of purple blood.  The shaft was then taken out of the bottle and thrown into the janitor's wood chipper, then sent to needy children in Africa.  The cover featured a blonde-haired man in a dark-grey suit riding a white horse through an open field (from a side view), staring and smiling at the reader with fists full of cash and a white-powdered nose.  The inspiration for the fucked-up book?  The author had written a similar story in middle school and wanted to revive it.

"So you don't want me to-"

"SSSHHHH!!"

"Sorry."

Luna began to eye a pair of jeans with pre-torn holes in them.  She picked them off of the rack, but Marlon rebutted her.

"No!  You can't just buy jeans with holes in 'em!  Ya gotta earn 'em!"

It was one of the few important lessons Marlon's father had taught him:  holes in jeans were a testament to ruggedness, and had to be earned the honest way, whether by guys or gals.

"Hm-hm.  Well I think I know how to solve that problem," Luna said to Marlon while leaning in towards his ear.  Marlon knew exactly what she meant by that.  The only way to earn holes was to use the knees, and Luna had seen an opportunity to accelerate the process.

Oh, she's good.

"And by the way, what do you think of me sleeping in your closet?  I know I asked you about it in the note, but forgot to ask you here."

"It's fine, I suppose," Marlon began as the two walked toward the back of the store.  Most of the other ponies were scattered about, looking at the various things.  The Apples were still in the back, trying on boots and, as of more recently, thin jackets.

Marlon had not been in the store in many years, and the look of the place as he walked brought back the memories.

In the middle of the store, a small counter area stood among various support pillars, making the thing look like a human-box.  Bags of various no-name candies littered the counter space, which made the walk to the back extremely cramped on the right.  To the left of the counter was the behemoth array of jackets and various camping supplies on floor-shelves, and to the right, the boots, whose shelves stretched to the ceiling.  The two sections were separated by a barred, metal framework which stretched from the top of the camping supply floor-shelves to the ceiling.  The metal beams made Marlon think of prison bars.  Fluorescent lights shone down with a harsh glow.

"My only concern is if other people will find out."

"Oh, they won't.  I can pull an invisibility spell if somebody comes in and checks around the closet.  Of course, I can't see why they'd snoop around your room anyway."

"They probably wouldn't, but one can never be too careful."

"Indeed."

Marlon walked over to AppleJack, who was sitting on a bench, lacing up a pair of brown Red Wings.  He sat down next to the now-more-anthropomorphic-than-ever-anthropomorphic-horse-thing.  He noticed a slight smell of apples.

Hm.  They all seem to smell like something, if I take time to notice it.  Wonder what Celestia smells like?

"Shee-oot, Rich!  Ah sure am glad y'all brought us out here."

"Well, technically, I didn't bring you anywhere; we're all inside my head."

"Ah know, ah know, but this here mem'ry's startin' ta remind me a'home.  See, the great thing 'bout Equestria was that the countryside'n the cityside were nice'n close.  Ah could live on a nice'n rural apple farm while still seein' mah friends.  Problem is, it ain't that way out here, so I'm'a hafta make the most'a the time out'n these parts as ah can."

"Well you'd love Texas.  Probably 90 percent country."

"Shee-oot!  Is it far?"

"Couple days by car, couple hours by plane."

"Well that don't sound none too hard!"

"But it's expensive.  Plane tickets aren't cheap."

"Well, y'all said sum'n 'bout jobs, right?  Well, all ah gotta do is save some money to take a li'l trip."

"Four hundred."

"Whuh?"

"Four hundred dollars for a ticket from Reagan to Hobby, last time I checked."

"Nah, that ain't so bad!"

Oh, the optimism.  Quite similar to the whimsy.

"Well, it's good y'all lemme in on that, cuz I'm gonna start the trip plannin' once the jobs get runnin'!"

Oh, the optimism.

AppleBloom walked back over to the bench, wearing a yellow fleece jacket.

"Whadda y'all think, sis?" she asked.

"That ain't lookin' right on ya as a human.  Try sum'n a li'l darker.  And besides, it ain't cold."

"Well, ya never really can tell!  Like that time when all them anvil clouds came in an'-"

"Yeah, yeah, ah remember them anvil clouds.  Don't need any more remindin'."

"Well, ah'm'a take y'all's advice on this'un.  Better find a darker shade."

AppleBloom walked back to the coat assortment.  Through the bars, Marlon saw that Dashie was staring into a mirror, admiring herself in a new pair of stonewashed Wranglers, and Fluttershy was staring into the camping supply shelf at some unknown object.  She looked up to meet his eyes, then quickly took them down to the shelf again.

DAMN!  Why does that act have to be so cute?

Fluffle puff munched on circus peanuts next to the counter.  She stared to the end of the boot aisle, focusing on the neon Red Wing sign.  Marlon rose and walked over to her.

"Hi.  I don't believe I've introduced myself directly to you.  Richard Marlon," Marlon began, holding out his hand to Fluffle puff, who had a circus peanut hanging out of her mouth like a cigar.  It wiggled back and forth, indicating slow chewing.

Fluffle stared at the hand, then back at Marlon.  Hand.  Marlon.  Hand.  Marlon.  She swallowed the peanut and let out a high gasp, then flung herself into him with a crushing embrace.  She began to lightly pat his back.  He hugged her back out of politeness.  She smelled like an old rug-warm, but slightly musty.  Her arms moved around his back and put another circus peanut in her mouth.

The hug lasted for quite a while.

"Fluffle?  Could you maybe... let go?"

"OK!" she said.  Twilight would have had the same voice had she inhaled a large quantity of helium.

She let go of Marlon, then dug into her bag for another circus peanut, which she shoved into his mouth.  He hated the damn things, but he chewed and swallowed to be polite.  Fluffle's tongue hung out of her mouth comedically through a large grin.

"Uh... thanks.  What did you do back on Equestria for a living?"

Fluffle reached into her shirt and pulled out a picture for just such an occasion:  a picture of herself next to a smiling, sea-green pegasus with matching hair.  Each wore an old-timey diner hats.  The picture looked as if it had been taken in the 70's; the ponies were in a room with bile-yellow carpeting, and they stood next to a decorative wooden framework (often seen on Earth as a divider between foyers and living rooms) that jutted from the right side of the picture.  The room they were in went back for another thirty feet, and ended in a wooden wall, which led to a bland, grey ceiling.  The right, visible side of a long party table covered by a yellow tablecloth stretched the depth of the room on the left of the picture.  On the right side of the table, ponies sat in grey chairs in front of plates of steaks and fries.  Green liquid filled most of the glasses next to the plates.  Marlon saw a few ponies he recognized:  AppleJack, Derpy, and Dashie.  A purple pony with matching hair waved to the camera, her eyelids hanging low, as if she had been drunk when the picture was taken.  To complete the look, the whole picture looked as if had been shit on; the whole thing had a brown tint.

Fluffle turned the picture over.  A note on the back read:

Dear Fluffle,

Remember the Baltimare Community Center?  Those were some great times, eh?  Been twenty years now since it was torn down.  '75, right?  That would make it twenty.  Anyway, I wrote to say I'm moving back to Ponyville.  It's been a good twelve years in Sesaddle, but it's getting hard to find a job.  A wave of immigrants from the rest of Equestria a few years back destroyed the job market.  Turns out the Appleoosans are really good with shopkeeping.  I'll be taking a train that leaves on the eighth.  I should be back by the fourteenth or so.

Your Pal,

-Sprinkle Medley

Fluffle put the picture back in her shirt.  Marlon noticed that the pink fuzz that came out of her sleeves did not correspond to her arm movements.

Oh, thank God!  It's only the inside of the jacket.

"What was the exact year that was taken?  Which millennium were you in?"

"Mil, 380 thou, 971."

"One million, 380 thousand, nine-seventy-one?"

Fluffle nodded.

"Two eras:  B.E. (before evolution) and A.E. (after evolution).  Before and after the pony race evolved."

"Interesting.  Hey, look.  I'm gonna go to Flutters now, OK?"

Fluffle gave him a massive, death-grip hug.  She let him go and waved while making a raspberry.  Marlon turned around and walked to Flutters.  He leaned back against the shelf she had been staring at.  It held a battery-operated Coleman lantern and a MAPP gas welder.

What the fuck kind of a combination is that?

"What do you need those for, Flutters?"

"I'm only looking at the welder."

"That's an even better question:  what would you possibly be welding?"

"Nothing.  But the girls are always telling me that I need some sort of way to defend myself, since I'm not much of a fighter.  I think one of these can give an assailant a bit of a warning burn."

"Warning burn?  That'll melt flesh clean off your body!"

"Oh, goodness!  I don't want to do that!"

"And everybody's gonna be scared of you already carrying one of those things around."

"Oh!  I don't want to really hurt anyone-just maybe ward them off a little."

"Well, if you want some real protection, get one of these."

Marlon walked over to the kicked-in knife display case and pulled out a spring assisted, serrated, mind-fuckingly painful knife.

"Try this," he said, placing the knife in Fluttershy's hand."

"Oh!  But this will hurt them even more!"

"Depends on where you use it.  And you can stitch up a knife wound if it's not too bad.  Melted flesh is a bit harder to replace.  I could pick you up a non-dream one sometime and tell the army guys to let you keep it, if you'd like."

"But I could never do that!  Everyone would be scared of me!"

"I don't exactly think you have the face of a murderer."

"But this looks..."

Fluttershy pushed up the knob on the hinge of the blade.  It sprung open.

"EEP! ...really painful."

"Do you want to actually scare off an assailant?  One of these'll do the trick.  Too bad this is only a dream-knife."

Fluttershy pushed down on the blade to close it and clicked on the safety switch.  Marlon found it bizarre that she knew how to work one of these things, even though she had never used one.

"It's nice of you to think of me like this, but I'm... scared to stab anyone.  Is there anything less... threatening to the user?"

"But that's the point.  You need to look threatening so nobody fucks with you."

"But I don't want to stay a virgin the rest of my life!"

Marlon almost burst into laughter.  Luna heard Fluttershy, and began to chuckle.

"No, not like that.  I mean messes with you.  Tries to rough you up a bit!"

"I... think I've changed my mind.  I don't really mind being defenseless.  Really.  It's nothing."

"Well you've got to learn to do something, if not stabbing.  What do your friends usually do?"

"AppleJack bucks, Twilight uses magic to blast victims with lasers, Dashie just flies away super fast-she doesn't even need to fight anything, Pinkie uses her party cannon set to full blast, and Rarity uses her magic to make swarms of sewing needles appear to stab victims to death."

"Jesus Christ!"

"And I've got nothing."

"You don't want to punch, stab, or have any sort of violent direct physical contact.  Am I right?"

"Yes."

"How 'bout a gun?" Marlon asked slyly for comedic effect.  He imagined shadows running in to cover his face like in a dramatic scene in a movie.

"But that would hurt more than any other!"

"Yeah, but you don't have to have any physical contact with the bad guy."

"Look, this isn't working.  Nopony's ever tried to really hurt me before.  I've changed my mind.  Really."

"But I'd feel bad if you ever did get hurt.  There are some really crazy people on Earth."

Dashie had been about to try on another pair of jeans, but stopped dead when she heard Marlon say that.  Luna saw from nearby and walked over to console her.  She put an arm around Dashie's back and sat down beside her on a bench.  She spoke quietly so as not to have Marlon overhear:  "Do you want me to wipe your memory?"

"I'm not sure.  If I forget, then he'll notice that I'm not as sympathetic to him."

"I can wipe his memory, too.  He won't remember you kissing him (nice move, by the way), and you won't remember his mother."

"But why?  Why do humans like that have to exist?"

"I looked it up in one of his books:  this mania is a relatively common human birth defect, but it rarely escalates to that level.  And most of this society seems to be based on religion, judging by his journal.  It seems to be a socially acceptable outlet for manics."

"Nobody deserves to live through that.  And Lanie.  That was adding insult to injury."

"I know.  It's good you didn't see his father.  Or his elementary school teachers.  Or the middle school kids.  Or his high school teachers.  Or his-"

"No!  Stop!"

Dashie began to cry silently.

"Nobody deserves it.  Nobody!"

Luna hugged her in consolation.

"Do you still want the wipe?"

"N-no.  It'll serve as a re-re... minder.  Of why I can never ever make f-f... fun of him."

Marlon had finished up his discussion, having it result in an "I'll think of something to do, don't worry" from Fluttershy.  He went to find Spike, who had gone outside for a smoke.  Marlon saw the top of his head through the shop window and walked out.

Spike was sitting down against the brick wall below the window, a Kool hanging from his mouth.  Marlon sat down beside him and pulled a Winston from his pocket and lit it with his handy-dandy Bic.

"So, what's it like being a dragon?"

"Not much different than a human, I suppose.  'Cept I can breathe fire and have super thick, pain-resistant scales," Spike replied, not shifting his gaze from the road in order to keep the conversation nonchalant.

"Did you like your assistant job on Equestria?"

"I guess it was OK.  Not a whole lot of excitement, though."

"I can understand.  I've known some secretaries in my day."

Oh, I'm sorry.  Did I say 'known?'  I meant 'sexually annihilated.'

"Do you ever get bored with your job?"

"Not bored; tired of.  Seems the only people who hate me are my coworkers."

"Isn't that normal in a power position?"

"In the movies, yes, but I wouldn't think in real life.  Most of the people out there like me, but the guys in the executive branch, the vice president, the guards, the cabinet.  The guys in Congress, the justices, the works.  They think I should be dumb and boring like my predecessors."

"Who wants a leader who's dumb and boring?"

"That's what I said!  Seriously!  They made bumper stickers based on it!"

"Where is this 'vice president?'"

"Vacation in Tucson.  He's a very solitary man; he absolutely refuses to be interrupted on any vacation.  He figures if there's some global crisis, I can take care of it OK.  I'd only call him if I'm totally fucked."

"How do you spell that?"

"T-U-C-S-O-N."

"Who put the 'C' there?"

"No clue."

"Where is it?"

"Really fuckin' far away."

"Ah.  That narrows it down real good."

Spike stubbed out his Kool and lit another with a black Zippo, most likely borrowed from Luna.

"But you get the gist.  It's a bit worrisome is all."

"I can see why you'd think so.  But you seem cool to me.  Nice and laid back.  Some dumb and boring guy woulda killed me by now for being a dragon."

"Thanks.  It's nice to hear that.  Again."

"Don't mention it.  Part of the job."

"So what's it like being the only dragon in town?"

"Sucks.  No dragons to fuck senseless."

"Didn't Twilight say you were thirteen?"

"Yeah, so?  Dragons start their sexual primes around that time.  The ponies get it at around ten and keep it 'til they get old and wrinkly.  Weird as shit, if you ask me."

"Just curious.  Humans hit it between twelve and thirty... I think.  But it's a bit odd to see two thirteen-year-olds doing it.  Fifteen-year-olds I could believe, but thirteen seems a little young."

"You're a human.  I'm a dragon.  We're different."

"Yes....  You're right."

"Word on the lawn is that you've had a lot of mates."

Damned army guys!

"So?"

"I know it's a little early, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Does it have to do with fucking something of another species?"

"First off, don't act like that weirds you out; I know about everything.  Second, not on your part."

"Celestia told you?"

"You know it."

"Dammit."

"Don't worry, man.  Luna's fuckin' famous for that.  Don't think you're the only one, ohhhh no.  Princess of the night?  Expert on all night-time activities?  Two plus two equals four?  I won't tell any others, but watch who you tell.  Some ponies aren't so secret-friendly."

"Yeah, I get it.  So back to that favor...."

"Ah, yes.  As you can tell, it's hard being the only dragon in town for reasons previously mentioned.  So, I've become attracted to Rarity."

"Are you shitting me?"

"Nope.  Not a bit.  Since you know stuff about females of your own species-courtship, mainly-I was hoping that you could give me some tips on winning her over."

"You're serious...?"

"Yep.  I'll be honest with you; she's pretty hot if you look at her in the right way.  Something about her is just as attractive to me as a dragon female would be."

"But I'm not sure about your planet's customs on dating."

"Doesn't matter.  From the books I've read, it doesn't seem like sentient beings have much differences in expressing affection.  At least back home."

"I mean... I can try.  But don't expect any lasting results."

"Noted."

Marlon noticed how strange it was to hear Spike speak with this intelligent tone of voice; it was a polar opposite from his normal one.  It was possible that the seriousness of Rarity had completely changed his personality.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"How to win someone over of a completely different personality type."

"Yeah, I've seen her.  Nobody I know has that personalty type.

Well, I would start by getting Celestia or Luna to change you into humans during your date, so it won't seem so far-fetched to the others in the fancy restaurant you should take her to."

"OK.  And then?"

Spike had taken a small notepad and a pen out from his pocket.  He began to take notes.  From Marlon's perspective, the young man in front of him, with the black emover, Spelunker's shirt, Kool hanging from his mouth, chain wallet, previously-unseen anchor tattoo on his right arm, and purple-and-green eyes looked like a homeless, washed-up Blue's Clues host.

A clue, you say?  Oh, you're right!  There's a blue pawprint on Sidetable Drawer.  I'll bet that little fucknut has some money on him!

"Hold up.  First, we have to work on getting her to agree.  Do you know anything about fashion?"

"Nope.  I'm in the 'don't know shit' category."

"Is there anything else she's even remotely interested in?"

"Gems."

"OK, do you know anything about those?"

"I eat 'em.  I know damn near every kind."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa.  You eat gems?  As in emerald, ruby, sapphire, amethyst 'n shit?"

"Yep.  Dragon teeth are the second hardest things known to ponies.  The only things I can't chew are diamonds.  They hurt like a bitch."

"OK, well, have you tried suggesting new gems for her extremely elaborate dresses?"

"Yeah.  Didn't do any good in the ways of physical attraction though.  I did get a smooch out of her, but it wasn't one of those 'kiss me you fool' smooches; one of those 'you're the best friend a pony could ever have' ones on the cheek."

"Apparently humans aren't the only ones who get friendzoned."

You're a really great guy.  Don't ever think otherwise.  And I'm sure you'll make some other girl very happy.  But I think we should just be friends, you know?  And see other people.

Marlon tried not to visibly pause at the memory.

Which led to another.

Please fix my mom's brain!

Which led to another.

And would you cry if I told you that I lied...?

And another.

Rule number one.  Do you remember it?  It has nothing to do with you.  It's between me and your mommy.  Got it?

Another.

This is my new girlfriend, Dolly, kids.

Another.

Sources say that Aurelie had been on a trip to New York to visit her brother before she was tragically killed.

Another.

I think we should see other people.  I'm not cut out to be a president's girlfriend.

Another.

That was a great time, Richard.  But men in power just aren't my type after all.

Another.

Ew.  Why the fuck do you think I'd want to do you again tonight, you fuckin' pervert?  I'm leaving you and this retard city.

"Richard?"

PLEASE FIX MY MOM'S BRAIN!!

"Richard?  You OK, man?"

Marlon had not noticed before, but he had paused.  Visibly.

"Yeah.  I'm fine."  Marlon had been staring at the concrete below him when he had trailed off into the swirl of memories.  "I'm sorry for scarin' you."

"Memories?"

"How'd you know?"

"Gets everybody, human or not.  We all have those little spells."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, man.  It's perfectly natural."

YOUR BODY HAS BEEN CONSUMED BY SATAN WITH HIS UNNATURAL URGES!  GET BEHIND ME, SATAN, AND TAKE YOUR PUPPET WITH YOU!!!

"Y... yeah.  Natural."

"Do you have any more tips, or should we call it a day?  It's not right of me to bring old stuff up."

"Uh... I... I think I'll be fine."

"You sure, man?  You look a little pale."

"No, I'm not sure.  It's my own fault.  I shouldn't have said that... thing."

"I know what ya mean."

"Look, I don't want to abandon you in your... uh... time of need.  I need to take a breather is all.  I'll be back to it soon."

"Well, we can only talk about this when none of the others are around.  It's gonna hafta be a bit of a longterm effort."

"No problem.  I'll help you.  I understand what it's like to have a long-time crush, and I think it's a good cause.  In fact, I'll do what I always do for longterm projects:  give it a name."

"What's the purpose of that?"

"One, it sounds cool.  And two, if I write down reminders in my schedule book with 'project' in the name so I don't forget it and one of my friends finds it, they'll know not to blab it around if it sounds that official."

"What are you gonna call it?"

"Hm... it's a plan to get Spike with Rarity... and it's a longterm effort....  I've got it!  'Project Sparity!'"

"That's the best you could think up?  Nothing that sounds different than our names put together?"

"OK, then you think one up."

Spike thought for a few seconds, then shrugged:  "I got nothin'.  Project Sparity it is."

Luna walked out of the store, along with Fluffle, Dashie, and Fluttershy.

"The Apples decided to stay in and check out the boots.  Let's see what else there is to do," Luna announced.

Marlon was immediately reminded of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; the whole "let's look around and leave the kids behind in their favorite parts of the factory" story.

Now all we need is a Scary Tunnel.

There was nothing else to do except walk down the road and enjoy the dream-air.  Marlon wondered exactly how much more exposure Luna wanted to give the others of him, which would control how long the dream dragged on.  He felt awkward to be in the position of showing people around a town he had not been to in years.  It was like ad libbing, but with no ideas to springboard from.

As they walked, Marlon noticed that there was another person standing in front of a building far ahead.  It looked vaguely like a-

Wait a minute... what the fuck is that thing?

-person initially, but its form changed to include bizarre curves as he approached.  It did not move to greet them; it only stood still, facing the group, half-obstructed by a wall that jutted out from another building's side.  It was about (a foot?) shorter than Marlon, but matched the height of a few of the others.

"What is that thing?" Marlon whispered to Luna, who walked on his left.

"Take a look.  It's from an old memory."

The group finally reached the shape, which stood in front of an out-of-place department store.  It turned its head and entire neck to reveal-

It's that thing from Angel Dust!

-a heron.  A great blue heron.  In Front Royal.  Far away from water.  In front of a department store.  Not giving a flying fuck about the humans.

"What is that thing doing here?" Marlon asked.

"I brought it here to see if Fluttershy would be-"

"Oh!  A heron!" Fluttershy exclaimed, and walked up to the human-sized bird.  It stared blankly at her, occasionally moving its head around to see her in different angles.

"You had herons on Equestria?"

"Yep.  Not many of 'em, but we trained a few to carry mail.  I brought it here to give a bit more of that "back home" feeling to Fluttershy."

Marlon remembered the first time he had seen a heron in person.  During a trip to Texas when he was eleven, Marlon went fishing at a pond next to his aunt's house.  He remembered seeing the boy at the other end of the pond's walkway, staring at the pond's other shore.  After a few seconds of staring, Marlon realized that it was a heron, and watched in amazement as it lifted its freakishly-large body into the air.  Something about that scene had been poetic at the time.  Marlon found that if a bird that large could leave its problems behind by flying away, he could, too.  The first wingbeats were heavy and strenuous, but once it was in the air, the journey was much smoother.  Marlon believed that deep down, he was like a heron, and would one day leave all his troubles behind with a few strenuous wingbeats and a bunch of easy ones (metaphorically speaking).

"It's so cute!" Fluttershy said, looking the bird over all around.  It stared at her blankly.  She lifted her hand and gently rested it down on the bird's head.  It stared at her blankly.  She slowly ran her hand down its neck.  It stared at her blankly.  She repeated the process.  It stared at her blankly.

"Why isn't it doing anything?" Marlon asked Luna.

"I 'programmed' it, if you will, to act like the ones back home, which would let you pet them.  I know they don't do that here, and I know this thing's way out of place, but... ya know, it's for Fluttershy," she whispered back.

"Quite the placebo."

"Indeed.  I'm not sure how Earth birds will react to ponies, but they'll probably fly away in fear just like they do for humans."

"But she'll feel terrible if she can't interact with the animals."

"Well, not all animals are afraid of humans, right?"

"No, not all.  Tons of animals don't care about human presence."

"Alright, good.  If that weren't the case, I could just simulate their Equestria-like behaviors, but she'd eventually get into a 'this isn't real life' slump."

"Another question:  you said last night I'd know if you accessed by memories.  So why did I go through all of today and not think about the Apple House?"

"For playback.  It's a weird magical principle, but putting things from memories in dreams has no visual repercussions on the dreamer, while strict memory playback does.  It probably has something to do with the fact that memory 'copying' requires so little magic to be performed on the dreamer."

"I will never understand magic."

"Oh, you will, with a little reading."

Fluttershy continued to pet the bird.  Marlon began to wonder how his dreams would be carried out from now on.  Would they be normal-looking with a few oddities like the heron, or totally fucked-up like that commercial about the beaver and Abe Lincoln?

The cardinal flew down to the tree next to Fluttershy.  A catbird followed, making its signature EEEAAAAA sound.  A house sparrow.  A starling.  A wren.  A titmouse.  A grackle.  A grey nuthatch.  A blue jay.  A chickadee.  Fluttershy looked up at them, then sat on the bench.  The birds all landed on the edges; some on her shoulders, *chip*-ping and EEEAAAAA-ing and NYAH-NYAH-NYAH-NYAH-NYAH-ing away like mad.  The heron walked over behind the bench and rested its head on Fluttershy's shoulder.

"What the fuck...?" Marlon whispered.  "That's how animals responded to her?"

"Yep.  All the time.  It's some deep vibe-system thing."

Fluttershy sat on the bench happily, looking like a demonic, yellow-eyed Snow White.  She petted the birds gently while they stared at her blankly.  The heron let out a sound like a creaking board.

"Oh!  They're so adorable!"

"I take it you want time to be with the birds?"

I'll share this-a lonely view....

"It would be nice.  I love them all!"

The blue jay lit on her shoulder and rubbed against her cheek like a cat.  The Regular Show would not make its debut for another year-and-a-half, but it if had already, Marlon would have imagined the Hm-Hm.  Hm-Hm-Hm line.

What the fuck?

The group continued on, leaving the demonic-eyed Snow White there on the bench, smiling intensely, as if she had just begun summer vacation.

Luna spotted an antique store on the other side of the road and suggested they go inside.  Spike, Marlon, Fluffle, and Dashie followed.

Inside the store which Marlon had not seen for ages, massive cupboards blocked the view of the store from the entrance.  Once around the side, an expanse of ancient furniture stretched for a considerable distance, only broken by a metal support beam in the center of the room and a bucket to catch water that dripped down from an overhead pipe.  The store was well-lit as always, but the empty counter made it creepy to Marlon.  A light smell of must stained the air pleasantly (Marlon had always been a fan of the musty smell; it reminded him of his grandfather's crawlspace and the ancient boxes of books and Lionel trains).

"Why are we in here?" Dashie asked.

"Because it's cool, that's why," Luna replied.  She was intently gazing at an archaic radio cabinet on the right side of the store, next to a case of old Camel lighters and a rack of Time magazines from all across the 20th century, which was next to an empty doorway to another small section of the store.  "You might find some cool stuff in here that you might be able to get in the real world.  Think of it as window-shopping."

Luna turned on the bizarrely functional radio.  A song, halfway finished, began to slide from the speaker.  Marlon did not recognize it; it must have been from a subconsciously stored memory.  The bright, folky tune was eerie in its age and obscurity.  He could have sworn he recognized the voice, but the song sounded like nothing he had heard in the past twenty years.

Thus he danced and clapped through the night

And with grey morning light he was gone

"I don't remember that one," Marlon said.

"It's too old for you to.  It's from a subconsciously stored memory from your youngest days.  You heard it on one of your father's 45's, but he wound up giving it away."

Marlon tried to remember his father's 45 collection, but he could not place the song.  He remembered the records of Runaround Sue, The Rain, the Park, and Other Things; American Pie, Sunshine of Your Love, How Sweet It Is, and Race Among the Ruins, but this one continued to escape him.

"It's The Elf, by Al Stewart," Luna said.  Marlon still could not remember.  His father had had Rod Stewart records, but he knew little of Al apart from Time Passages.

"Anything in particular you want us to look for?" Dashie asked flatly.  This place was obviously boring her.

"Look in the back right.  I stocked it with memory-music," Luna said, indicating the back-left of the store, which included a massive selection of ancient records and cardtable holding a turntable on top of a receiver, whose wires connected to speakers on the floor.  Dashie and Fluffle went to investigate.  Spike had opened the display case and began to flick the lighters.

"Damn things don't even work," he mumbled.

"I don't think they're really supposed to.  Can I have mine back?"

"Oh.  Yeah, sure."

Spike returned the Zippo to Luna's pocket.  A slight smirk grew on her face as he dropped it in.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Marlon asked.

"I dunno.  As long as they want to, I guess.  Say, I didn't ask:  did you like my plan?"

"I had a feeling it was yours.  That pen was blue."

"Yep.  It works like a memory card, and your hand is the reader.  Simply pick up the enchanted pen, and the stored information on the blue surface is zapped into your brain.  Pretty cool, huh?"

"I thought you said hypnosis was hard."

"It is.  But that isn't hypnosis; it's thought-seeding.  All I have to do is cast a spell for the stored idea, then a retainer spell to keep it on the surface of the pen, which will change color depending on whose idea it was.  Getting that color out's the tricky part, as you're now aware."

A needle descended onto a record somewhere.  Keep the Fire Burnin' began playing loudly.  Luna turned the radio off.

"Hm.  Seems they've found something," she mused.

"You really like Earth music," Spike said, inspecting a Truman campaign button from the lighter display case.

"Oh, yeah.  It's great.  Don't you remember the Bit-ty Twisters?"

"Yes, I remember the Bit-ty Twisters," Spike said with an exasperated sigh.

Marlon laughed, saying, "what the fuck kind of name is that?" in between gasps.

"Play on the phrase "titty twister," as you might know.  They were a famous rock band back home.  Spike wasn't much into them on account of their lead singer's squeaky voice."

"I don't understand how anypony could have liked them."

"And then there were Fresh Squee'd, Heart in Hoof, Pinkamena and the Pies, Breezy, and my personal favorite, The Panels."

"Pinkie was in a band?"

"Yep.  Not for long, though.  They only set out three albums before they broke up.  Pinkie sang."

Marlon found it difficult to imagine Pinkie having an attention span large enough to keep a song going.

"How long are we supposed to stay here?" Spike asked when he had finished inspecting the stuff in the case.

"You were the ones who wanted to look at Richard in his natural habitat.  Are you all tired of this place?"

"A little," Dashie called from the music pile.  Marlon stepped away from the lighter case to find Fluffle with Summertime Dream sticking out of her mouth, gently sucking at the cardboard.

That's one hell of a bizarre habit.

"I don't really... find all this Earth stuff all that interesting, truth be told," Spike added.

"Hm.  Let me think of a better place to go."

Luna closed her eyes under the glasses, judging by the muscle contractions on the side, and thought.

"Go through that door," she told Marlon.  "Everybody go through that door.  Let's try something."

Marlon looked through the door to the right of the case.  Nothing was inside except for a smaller room with more bookcases and an old chicken-wire cupboard.

"Luna, I don't think there's anything different in there," Marlon whispered, slightly afraid to insult the leader by pointing out that her magic was so powerful that it could transport a human and a bunch of aliens into the same dream, but could not change the appearance of a portal.

"Of course there is.  Go look."

Marlon walked through the empty doorway and down a large step with a crude "mind the gap" sign on the floor in front.

There was nothing different.  Wooden walls.  Old dressers with various knick-knacks on their tops. Books to the right, behind the display window.  Sewing machines and treadle boards to the far left, one with a lamp affixed to the top by wires that ran through the main unit.  The rest of the group followed.

"He's right.  There's nothing different, Spike said.

A door slammed from behind.  The group whipped around to see a large metal door in the frame, whose lock clicked from within.  There was no handle on their side, only a bathroom-style metal panel.  Luna was not in the room.

"Want something more interesting?" Luna's muffled voice said from behind the door.  "How 'bout a psychological experiment?  Oooh, I love these!"

"What are you doing, Luna?" Marlon asked in a "eeyy, c'mann" tone of whimsy.

Oh, the whimsy.

"How's 'bout a little game?  I've been working on this for a while, and you guys gave me juuuuusstt the right conditions to work it into a dream."

The scenario reminded Marlon of Saw, except far less intimidating.  This time, Marlon knew what the game was.  There could only be one game with Luna around.

"This room has actually been changed; you just haven't noticed it yet.  The glass looking out to the street has been reinforced to triple thickness, and if you look at different parts of the room, you'll see tiny cameras sticking out from the walls.  Do you have an idea of where this is going?"

"What's the purpose of this?" Dashie asked with impatience.

"As I said, it's a psychological experiment.  I want to see what happens when you leave a group of three different species with one common body type in the same room together and record the results.  It could actually prove beneficial in future therapy sessions.  And you get what you wanted now.  You get to see Marlon in a more interesting natural habitat.  I'll be looking in from a monitor and listening to the records Fluffle hasn't chewed up yet.  Don't have too much fun!"

The four of them heard footsteps walking away, then an incredibly faint intro to Say Hello 2 Heaven.

"You had to say you wanted something more interesting, didn't ya, Spike?" Dashie said.

"Hey, you were gettin' bored in there, too!  Don't blame all this on me!"

"Guys, guys!  No point in fighting now!" Marlon said to calm the two.  "You all know what she wants.  If we give her a show, we can get out faster, OK?"

"No way, man!" Spike retorted.

"Oh, quit bein' a wimp, Spike.  We all know about the pillow," Dashie said jokingly.  Spike wound up to bash her jaw clean open with an uppercut, but Marlon pushed down the arm with all his weight.

"Cut it out, man!  Why are you so angry about this?" Marlon said, regaining his breath.

"I wouldn't be if Dashie would stop pissin' me off!"

"Dashie!  Stop pissin' him off!  Spike!  Cut it out!  Fluffle...."

Fluffle looked back at the other three from the examination of the sewing machine lamp-thing.

"Huh?"

"Keep doin' that."

"I ain't doin' it with Dashie!   I'm too riled up!"

"Spike, Spike, seriously.  Cut it out.  Nobody said you had to do it with her.  You don't even have to do anything if you don't want to.  But why is that idea so angering?"

"'Cause she knows, man.  She knows everything."

"Whoa.  Knows what?"

Luna sat at the music station with a Mega Watchman on a card table in front of her.  Temple of the Dog's self-titled album spun on the turntable behind her.  The Watchman displayed a black-and-white image of the arguers from a ceiling-oriented angle.  Occasionally, Luna used a small remote in her hand to switch between various camera views, one of which was inside one of the sewing machines.  Fluffle raspberried when she saw the lens jutting out of the main unit just below the lamp.  Saliva covered the lens.

"Dammit, Fluffle!"

Luna poofed up a can of Pringles, a notepad, and a pen.  She began to write down notes while switching through the angles, occasionally using a Pringle to keep her magic up (Luna had always found it ironic that the magic-replenishing food could be poofed up with magic itself, and she could never find a spell to work around the bizarre phenomenon).

EARTH EXPERIMENT 2:  What happens when you put three different species in human form in one room together?

-Large amount of initial argument

-No participation from the fourth party

-Laughter at explanation of "the pillow"

-Resulting action of embarrassment from third party.  Still does not explain initial burst of anger.  Must conduct other experiments to determine where that came from.  Too strong to be just from embarrassment.

-Dropping of... pants by first party

-Second party... licking head of first party's penis....

Luna stood up and watched the scene continue.  Spike watched from atop an old dresser while Dashie felt up the young Marlon's dick with her tongue, almost as if licking the initial blob off a Jello cap.  She pulled the needle from the record and walked back to the door.  She pressed her head up to the door to listen.

"Wow, you're pretty good at this, Dashie."

"Thnkth.  I tried thith a foo timeth back un Equuthreeuh.  Hoo lung do I haftha doo thith?"

"You can stop whenever you want to, if you want to try something else."

"Dammit, I'm tireda watchin' this.  Hey, Fluffle!  You wanna try somethin' new?"

"Sure thing!"

Luna had expected this to happen eventually, but a sudden (shock?) came over her.  She could not explain the feeling; she had never felt it before.  Was it jealousy?  No, it couldn't be.  No reason to be jealous of sex; she knew what it felt like.  And she had conducted experiments like these before-experiments when she observed others doing it.  It made no sense that she should suddenly feel like-

They're leaving me out.

Luna backed up to the support pillar opposite the doorway, pulled off her clothes, and focused on the door.  It disappeared with a snap of her fingers.  Inside, Marlon turned around, penis fully erect, hanging, and tilting slightly to the right.  Dashie backed away.

Luna began to run full-blast at Marlon, and in a fraction of a second, performed a levitation spell to lift Marlon's hanging penis to a horizontal position and a smoothing spell to soften the harsh carpet behind the president-to-be.  She lept into the air with such speed that her vagina was penetrated mid-air by Marlon's dick.  As the two fell backward, Luna adopted a kneeling position, causing her to power-slide until the two hit the wall, which was now rubberized by a later spell.  She played an air guitar for those two seconds between insertion and impact.

"Sweet 'Tia!" Dashie yelled.

Marlon and Luna panted heavily; one from exhaustion, the other from fear.

"What... was... that?!"

"That was the Power Slide Glide N' Ride (patent pending)."

Spike and Fluffle stared over from a dresser next to the sewing machines, wide-eyed.  Fluffle was bent over the dresser, pantless (and shaven), and Spike had just been removing his underpants.  Spike decided to catch Fluffle off-guard and jammed his dick into her fluff-less slit.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed.  Spike simply stayed inside, grinning proudly.

"I didn't think this stuff would start that quickly, so I decided to come and join while the gettin' was good."

Marlon felt Luna squeezing his dick with her vaginal walls, applying an oddly strong pressure exactly as he remembered Amy loved to do.  He gazed at the breasts he had not seen for so long.  They were the kind that started from the chest with a sharp rise and went down straight, then diverted in each direction toward the lower "body."

Luna dove down to smooch him; Spike took the invitation and began sliding in and out of Fluffle.  Her mouth twisted at the side with pressed lips.

"Dashie!  Come on!" Luna exclaimed while sitting back up.  "And move a bit to the side, would you, Rich?"

Marlon moved to his side so as not to be jammed up against the wall.  Dashie sat on his face, her ass cheeks covering his face.  He felt her asshole against his nose.  Chocolate.  He sent his tongue flying up to her snatch.  Sugar-water.  The unseen Luna bounced up and down on his dick slowly, but gripping viciously, as if milking it out.

Marlon smelled that trademark bit of sex-sweat from underneath the normally blue-skinned girl.  He had always found it bizarre how simple smells could be total boner-fuel, but eventually deducted that it was only human nature.  That explained the attraction to the rawness of it.  Unhindered by clothes or condoms or Secret (there were no secrets here).  There was something cool about it, and he wished he could describe it in a more poetic way than "human nature."

Being under the blue athlete reminded Marlon of being in the girls' locker room in high school.  He and a few friends were instructed to bring a high-jump mat into the gym via the locker room (the latter being the closest door to the track).  Nobody was inside, but there had been something so exotic about the beige tiling and the tampon dispensers (not necessarily sexually attractive, but definitely exotic).  All of them hoped to find a lagging girl in the showers, but they were the only ones.  The intruders.  Marlon's mother had already died, and being in this restricted place gave a sense of power.  A sense of "fuck you, mom.  You die, and I get to go that restricted place."  It was symbolic.  Fun, even.  It was one of his greatest high-school memories.

That memory made Marlon even harder, Luna's pounding faster.  Dashie rubbed her ass against his face, just as the mid-teens Richard Marlon had always envisioned.  The smells became even more vibrant.  Piercing, but in a good way.  Dashie let out a massive, involuntary fart on his face.  Marlon felt a small amount of wetness near the bridge of his nose.  The smell was mainly chocolate, but smelled vaguely of methane.

"Sorry!"

"It's OK.  Perfectly natural."

Human nature.

In the outside world, Marlon heard Fluffle moaning highly, almost like a Japanese porn star.  Spike blew his load with a large, low "YAH!!!"  Marlon heard him pant and lean down on the desk above Fluffle, who also panted heavily.

Marlon suddenly felt the jizz blast through his shaft, but an apparent magic spell held it back just before the head.  The gel inside burned to the point of pain.

"Luna!  Cut it out!  Let me splooge!"

Dashie rubbed her ass harder on Marlon's face, occasionally shaking from side to side.  The sensation in his penis was more intense than the night before; now there were two erotic stimulae for his programmed urges.

"No way!  This orgasm's gonna be way crazier than the night before!"

Burning pain shot through Marlon's penis, but the pressure kept building; he now could imagine what it felt like to have a literal penile explosion.  His back wrenched underneath him, and his scapulae contracted.  His whole body was in a vise grip this time.  Luna continued to slam and rub her warm, round cheeks on Marlon's pubic area, this time in her freakishly-tight asshole.  Dashie moved hers to a rimming position, which Marlon took advantage of.  His member felt like it had reached critical mass.  Luna ripped away from the rod and sucked hard.

Marlon imagined himself as a cartoon character who had reached some point of inner nirvana.  He imagined his pupils contracting to infinitesimal specks, but could not imagine a silly self-realization scene.  The closest he could muster up was an image of himself with eagle wings, rocketing through space toward the sun.

Release.

It must have lasted a full minute, as each part of Marlon's body clamped in with inhuman force.  He could feel the hot stream of semen shooting from his penis, but could not see due to Dashie's ass being in the way.  It was not a shallow stream, like one experienced after days of routine masturbating.  This was like an orgasm after two weeks of penile ignorance.  It seemed to widen the hole into a perfect circle to match the cylindrical jizz-flow.  Marlon heard Luna gag for air, and felt drips in the vicinity.  Dashie began to rub her snatch on his tongue, then let down a cascade of sugar-water into his mouth.  Her thighs clamped his head viciously.  He reached around her legs to pull her closer into his face.  He swallowed and sucked the pussy dry.

The clamp finally subsided.  Luna pushed Dashie aside gently and smooched Marlon tightly.  She had already performed the "spunko vanishissimo" spell, so as to not fill Marlon's mouth with his own juices.  She hugged him tightly while laying on top of him.  She placed his still-erect penis into her vagina until it became flaccid again.  He hugged her back as she began to roll him to the side.  Marlon looked up to find the others gone.  It was only him and Luna.

"Je t'aime, Reeshard," she said in Amy's voice.

The scene faded to black.

Prologue: Discord's Journal (Entry 1)

Prologue: Discord's Journal (Entry 1)

Day 1:

I've decided to write my progress down in a journal in case I feel like gloating over it later.  Enjoy the read, future self!

The scheme played out perfectly.  That "friendship" bullshit couldn't save them now.  Months of sleepless nights are finally paying off-I HAVE DESTROYED EQUESTRIA!  A backstory (in case the future me doesn't remember):

It was that stupid Fluttershy who started all of this.  That "treat Discord like an equal" plan actually worked on me-I didn't think it was possible.  Thanks to her incessant encouragement and that STUPID face of hers, I actually bought in to her scheme.  I remembered my father-just like me, but with a serrated knife and a coiled ram horn for his horns and pitch-black eyes (My people don't change bodies over generations, just accessories.).  I remember how he would always have the local zebra brew him up vats of this bizarre liquid-stuff like cough syrup.  He would become inebriated from it.  Scream at me for no reason.  Beat me up.  Once even tried to molest me.  When I was locked in my room (as I was every day), I wanted someone to care-someone to share thoughts with-a friend.  I had obviously taken a few hits of hard cider that day (I periodically stole barrels from Sweet Apple Acres) and got sad enough to AGREE TO HELP CELESTIA WITH MAGIC!  SWEET MERCIFUL GOD, SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH ME!!.  Living at Canterlot was nice, mainly because I got to fuck Luna every night.  She was a screamer, however.  Felt like my ears would explode every time.  Sometimes it looked like the air around me was forming ripples and vibrating.  Still, best sex I've ever had.  And I thought ponies were worthless.  They're obviously good for that.

Every night, after my "session," I would think about how I would destroy Equestria and rebuild it as a world of disorder.  I eventually formulated the perfect plan.  I would use my awesome magic to lift the ground up from this planet and push it into space.  Once every living thing had died, I would lower the ground back to the planet and begin to create new life forms out of rocks, dead grass, and my own shit.

Celestia had put way too much faith in me.  She had my room's door guarded by stern-looking ponies in thick armor, but this was a stupid move, because I was able to implode their heads with a little magic.  Prior to this move, I had had no idea that their blood was red.  Mine's purple, but I am the god of chaos, after all.

I flew through a window and onto the top of the mountain Canterlot sits on.  I then focused my strength on the grass far below.  Sure enough, the surface of Equestria (at least that I could see) rose up around me and flung into the sky.  I was sure to launch it into space and into orbit.  I did notice a big grey disc anchored below the castle as the land shot up.  Haven't ever seen it before.  Must have been the septic tank.  All that was left of the planet was dirt and my mountain.  Thanks to my magic, I can control exactly how much land to pick up, and the mountain needed to be my throne.  All I have to do is wait a few days (The land has to fall back down due to gravity.  Hope it lands uneven like a big ripply blanket.) to begin my reign.

Part I: The Landing (Chapter V)

Part I: The Landing (Chapter V)

Kindred to being an American.

-Pearl Jam, Glorified G

Marlon had been flipping the Axe bottle over and over for at least fifteen minutes, trying to memorize the weirdest ingredient.

Let it be known all across the land that your shower gel contains Methylchloroisothiazolinone.  Do you really want to rub that all over yourself?

His morning shit had been in the toilet for at least ten minutes, but he felt afraid to get up.  He knew that he would have to go out there sometime and make a speech to the aliens, and he feared a Freudian slip.

Welcome to Earth, aliens!  I will immediately get to work on finding you a respectable position in society.  You will always be welcome with us.  I had sex with your leader!  That is all.

Marlon tried to remember how he exited the dream, but nothing came to mind other than a slow fading to black.  When he had come back to the real world, the clock had read "1:25."  He had immediately checked, but there had been no white residue in his pants, nor any sugar water in his mouth.  She was right! had been his first thought.  He had fallen back asleep quickly, the fatigue naturally settling back in.  He could remember nothing of the ensuing dream except for one image:  himself, with torn and burned clothes, a slash on his cheek, and limbs littered with small bruises and nicks.  This version of himself had been sitting forlornly on a wooden crate in front of an abandoned and beaten-down shack, in an ancient mini-jungle of wild trees and shrubs that blocked out any background scenery.  The sun shone through from above and gave the space an ethereal glow, which ironically contributed to his painful solitude.  He was an outcast:  no humans or aliens to be found.  The worst part?  He deserved it.

When he had awoken to his alarm at 6, he had seen a yellow sticky note on his clock, which read in extremely small print:

Dear Richard,

If you are reading this, I am sleeping in your closet for the day, as I will most likely be doing often.  If you want to make other arrangements for sleeping quarters, please let me know tonight.

P.S.  Don't worry about making noise; I've plugged my ears with my own mane to block sound.  You should try it sometime.  It blocks out *all incoming sound.*

-Luna

Marlon had known exactly what she had meant by "You should try it sometime."  The only way he could access her mane was from directly in front of her face, and then....

He finally decided to flush the toilet to send his leavings to Kingdom Crap, then rose to wash his hands.  Once his hands were clean, he bent down to splash water on his face in a pathetic attempt to wash away skin oil.  As he lifted his head back up, he saw-

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!!!!!

No, worse.  At least a depiction of the act of Jesus fornicating with a duplicate of himself would be completely imaginary, since there were no actual pictures of the man (all cloning aside).  It would be a signal to Marlon that he had, in fact, gone bat-fuck insane and that there were at least a handful of therapists out there completely willing to shock the horrific images out of him for a currently undisclosed sum of cash.  This, however, was real.

Celestia.  In the mirror.  Staring at him.  With a pleasant backdrop of the blue sky behind her.

Marlon fell to the floor, feeling as if his heart had completely stopped, panting like a dog in late July.  He felt sick with surprise and smashed his lips together at the last second to stop a gut-wrenching scream.  The final audio product from his mouth mimicked Fluttershy's squeak of terror, but was heavily muffled.

"Sorry about that.  I probably should have made a sound to let you know I was here," said Celestia from her glass prison.

"Y... y... you th-think?" he said quietly.  He got to his feet shakily and stretched out his arms to rest on the counter, his upper body forming the shape of an easel.

"Are you OK, sir?" called a guard through the wall.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Vic.  Just slipped on some water."

"Do you need help?"

"I said I was fine.  Don't worry about it."

"10-4."

Marlon heard Vic walk away quietly.  Maybe he had to take his morning shit.  However, he could not hear any other ones out there.

Where are they?

"Is that your guard?" Celestia asked quietly.

"Yes, that's one of them.  His name's Vic.  Nice guy, but a real kiss-up, you know?"

"I had a few kiss-ups on Equestria.  I could never understand why they were so afraid of my mere presence.  It wasn't like I was going to hurt them if they messed up their greetings."

"More evidence that you don't want to hurt anybody; I like that," Marlon said, still collecting his breath.  "Let's get down to business, though.  I'm guessing you're using some bizarre video communication magic for this, and since the sky's in the background, does this mean that you're talking to the ground out there?  Because that's really conspicuous."  Marlon whispered the last bit even more quietly than the rest of the sentence in order to emphasize his rising fear.   Anti-hostility or not, seeing an anthropomorphic horse-thing talk to the ground would pretty damn weird.  As if it was communicating with more of its kind for an (invasion?).

"Not exactly.  It's a puddle made from the hoses last night.  I'm using it to get a view of you in your bathroom."

"Talking to water isn't any more inconspicuous!"

"Don't worry; I used an invisibility spell and a small memory wipe so nobody remembers me disappearing.  None of the people know I'm doing this."

"You guys have a spell for everything, dont'cha?"

"Just about.  First order of business:  how did you sleep last night?"

"Fine.  Was that really worth giving me a mini-heart attack over?  And couldn't you have just used telepathy?"

"I find face-to-face conversation to be more sincere.  Telepathy is not my preferred method.  And no, that wasn't all I was going to ask."

"Go on, please.  I'm sorry.  I'm a little stressed out for the speech and I guess it's rubbing off into conversation."

"I understand.  It's OK.  Did you talk to Luna at all?  I know you didn't get much of a chance earlier."

"Yes, I did talk to her.  In a dream.  She's good company, you know?"

Reeeeaallllyyy good company.

"So you probably know what she does:  enters dreams to perform psychology.  Did she tell you any of this?"

"Of course.  Why wouldn't she?"

"You can never be too careful with my sister.  Her treatment methods are odd, so I'm told, and may involve less than the truth."

"She seemed to tell the truth to me.  Even showed me some memories of Equestria so that I could understand where you came from."

"Did she show you what Discord looks like?"

"Indeed she did."  Marlon gave a small shiver at the thought of that living embodiment of a nightmare.

"I figured she would.  It would make you trust us more by seeing what we were running from.  Did she tell you anything else?"

Marlon noticed that Celestia harbored a hint of nervousness, as Luna had last night when she was discussing the moon.  However, Celestia kept her tone straight and her voice gave no indication of discomfort.  It was her eyes that gave her away:  they never could focus on him as deeply as they had the day before.  The fact that she was examining all that happened during the dream was odd as well.

"She told me the specifics of how her dream-magic works."

"That's all she told you?"

"Look, Celestia, why are you so interested in what she told me?  Does it matter that much?  She told me the basics about herself just like you did yesterday.  What's wrong with that?"  Marlon knew to keep his voice extra-calm so as not to alarm her.  More nervousness emanated from Celestia.

"Nothing.  Nothing's wrong with that.  I'm just curious."

"Well, your wish was granted.  You've got your answers."

"Indeed."

Celestia was having a difficult time keeping her emotions straight.  She was obviously afraid of something Luna may have said.  Probably the piece about the banishment and Discord's living at the castle.  Even though she was finished with her questions, she hesitated in the mirror.

"Is something wrong, Celestia?"

It was a stupid question, but Marlon knew that playing dumb was the key to answers.  Celestia hesitated.

"P... possibly.  I'm not... entirely sure if I should ask this, because if I'm wrong, I'll have to explain for nothing, and the story will be an awkward one."

"You can just do another memory wipe to make sure I don't remember the question if you're wrong.  Besides, you don't have to explain anything if you don't want to."

"Well, it may be important to know about in the future if you don't already...."

Marlon knew how Celestia felt.  Asking whatever question she was about to was like asking out a cute girl in high school.  The fear is overwhelming.

"Go ahead.  Get the question over with if it's bothering you."

Celestia breathed deeply and began:  "Did Luna... try anything last night?"

Celestia cringed as she said "try anything last night."

Oh, fuck.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Marlon, playing dumb again.

"I mean... did she try anything... s... s... (123-Go!...  123-Go!) ...sexual?"

Should I tell her the truth?  It was Luna's idea after all.

"Well...."

What's it gonna be?

"Now that you mention it... she did try a little... sum'n sum'n there."

LUNATRIEDITLUNATRIEDITLUNATRIEDITWASN'TMYIDEAPLEASEDON'TKILLME!!!!

"Oh no.  Why now?" Celestia said quietly with a sigh.  She placed a frontal leg over her eyes in the Equestrian equivalent of a facepalm.  "I want to... formally apologize for my sister's conduct.  She put you in an uncomfortable position, and that's a terrible way to make a good example.  I'll have a... talk with her later."

Celestia looked truly hurt, as Luna had when she told Marlon about her own predicament.

"Look... Celestia....  It's OK.  I'm fine."

THANK YOU BABY JESUS!!!

Marlon was an atheist, but that was his favorite silly-sounding expression of gratitude.

"No, it's not OK," she said with a heavy sigh.  "Luna is the princess of the night and has extensive knowledge of all that happens during that time, such as... s... (123-Go!) sexual... things.  She began to study sex when she was younger and became more obsessed with it than any other subject.  I suppose the science of it was what kept her attention.  It's no secret among my kind that she's a nymphomaniac; she can have as much of it as she wants in dreams.  She's constantly entering adolescent ponies' dreams for that reason specifically.  It's a win-win situation for her.  But you....  She probably heard about your aversion to sex talk and saw that as an opportunity to use her 'methods.'"  They may have worked, but at what cost?  I'm deeply sorry.  I hope you can forgive her."

Marlon noticed that Celestia's cheeks were blood-red.  Apparently humans weren't the only blushing creatures.

"Look, I told you it's OK.  If you must know, I didn't mind.  I felt scared about people finding out at first, but in a dream... there aren't any real consequences, right?  Nobody knows about anything unless you tell them."

"But you're of different species.  Doesn't it seem... odd?  To say the least?"

"I'd be lying if I said it wasn't.  But for some reason, it's not that bad.  She has the same... pieces down there as human females do, and...  I dunno... something about her that gave the illusion of sex with a human female.  I think it's because she gives out a similar amount of body heat and her skin feels like a human's.  And the sex obsession.  Definitely something I look for in a girl.  By the way, that part I said about the pieces lets me answer your question you had yesterday; we reproduce by the exact same method you do.  Mystery solved."

"Fortunately, gametes of different species never combine."

"Indeed.  Then again, it was a dream, and I'm sterile already, so there's... negative... concern?"

"Yes...," said Celestia, still not convinced of his consent.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better, on Earth, sex usually makes a great impression.  We humans love doing it as much as you do.  You don't have to apologize to me."

"But she'll probably try it again... and again... and again... until who knows when?"

"If it becomes a problem (which I doubt it will), I'll talk to her.  If it's me she wants, then she should be quick to listen so that I don't leave her alone."

"But you can't leave her alone.  She can enter your dreams whenever she pleases."

"But I can stop listening to her. Judging by how she latched on last night, that would be torture for her."

Celestia sighed again.

"OK, if you truly aren't bothered by it, then I guess it's OK.  Win-win?  Eh?"

"I'm surprised you aren't mad at me.  I thought you might kill me if you found out."

"I know it seems odd, but I care about my sister, and I know that sex is an obsession that's rooted so deeply in her brain that not even magic can change it.  None of our sicknesses have ever been passed to other species before, or at least not that I know of, and since you can't impregnate her, then... it's what she would want."

"Do you think that your other subjects would be mad at me?  I've been sort of worried that they might find out."

"They would never think of it, especially the adolescent males.  They know full well what she does, and there would be no surprise that she's doing it to you."

"Just one more question before I go:  I know it's probably not something I should ask, but I don't want you to have to make this awkward conversation again... what if any of your subjects want to do 'that,' too?  Since Luna's capable of nymphomania, then how about the others?"

"They probably won't, since you're so much bigger than them, but I know some that definitely obsess over sex....  Let's just leave it at this:  if you have any problems, or are forced into a situation that makes you uncomfortable, don't be afraid to tell me.  You deserve to be comfortable living with us."

"Um.... OK.  Thanks for being so understanding about this.  I was pretty nervous that somebody might find out before you showed up."

"It's no problem. It feels good to get that weight off my shoulders.  I'll... let you get back to getting ready."

Celestia's face faded until Marlon could see himself in the mirror again.

Good choice.  Free sex for life.

Marlon could not have asked for better weather to recite his speech in:  none at all.  Since the ship was still hanging in the sky, no sunlight was visible, but Marlon thought he could see small flecks of yellow light glinting off of a few of the ship's lower panels.  The streetlamps had automatically turned off, so construction-grade floodlight fixtures were wheeled onto the lawn with the camera crews.   More floodlights were mounted above the massive presidential podium, making the place vaguely resemble the first scene from The Wall in which the protagonist sings In the Flesh?.  Marlon could almost hear the guitars in his head when he walked out to the microphones.

So ya thought ya might like to go to the show?

As he straightened his tie, he heard the usual applause from the people outside the gate, but also a loud rumbling sound from below, like the world's largest steam engine.  He looked to the ground nervously, expecting an earthquake, and angled his eyebrows in a curious fashion when he saw the spectacle before him.

The ponies, all something-hundred of them (including the two leaders), were rapidly beating their hooves against the ground at his arrival.  It was apparently their version of applause.  Marlon nearly chuckled at this, but held himself back, for this was a formal occasion.

To feel the warmth, the beloved confusion, that space cadet glow?

"Ever since I was young, I've read books and watched movies about aliens, made by people who had never met them.  In The War of the Worlds, the aliens want to kill off the human race.  In Independence Day, the aliens want to kill off the human race.  In Alien, the aliens want to kill off the human race.  In Star Trek, there are aliens who want to kill off the human race; are you sensing a pattern here?  Then from out of nowhere, a massive U.F.O. comes down from the sky and lands right on the Washington Monument and what's inside?

Aliens.  Aliens that are small, colorful, and look like horses.  Already this goes against the movies in seven ways.  One:  the aliens are not ugly.   Two:  they look like horses.  Three:  most humans could easily consider them 'cute and cuddly.'  Four:  they have personalities similar to ours.  Five:  their planet was extremely similar to ours.  Six:  they use actual magic.  And seven:  they didn't hurt us.  My point is:  you are nearly the polar opposite of what the human race was expecting when we learned that aliens had arrived.  Last night, your leaders introduced themselves to me, and I think we will get along just fine with each other.  Now, as for the rest of you:  I have been informed of what life was like back on Equestria by your leaders, and you society seemed to operate similarly enough to ours.  Apparently, each of you possesses at least one special talent that drives your personality, and since that is true, I have formulated a plan.  I intend to work with Congress to pass legislation allowing you to accept jobs and housing in the real world-to live like humans do, essentially.  If this plan passes through, each of you will be individually interviewed, and a job will be recommended to you based on your talents.  I intend to create a new government branch, the D.P.A., or Department of Pony Affairs, with your two leaders as its heads.  You will work among us humans, and will earn money as a consequence.  New apartment complexes will be built in a community near here, allowing you to live among each other, but with your salaries, you may choose to buy your own housing as we humans do.  You will be provided with ample amounts of food, as well.  Until the buildings are constructed, a temporary settlement will be built on the lawn.  I intend to begin work on the legislation soon.  While you are living here on the lawn, you will be instructed about our society and how to quickly adjust to it.  This will prepare you for your future lives with us, which I hope will be mutually beneficial.  Thank you and have a good day."

Tell me, is something eluding you, such as:  is this not what you expected to see?

The rumbling and applauding began as Marlon walked away, as did his worry.

If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes, you'll just have to claw your way through this disguise.

The phone rang a few hours later as Marlon was at his desk, looking over a bill Congress had proposed the day before the aliens showed up-something about cutting away the sale of tobacco.  He had been lingering on a verdict of "no," since it seemed rather arbitrary, and if people wanted to kill themselves that was their own damn business, but the phone call was a delightful escape from the mind debate.

"Richard Marlon speaking," he said into the phone instead of "Yo" to sound official.

"Hello, sir.  This is North Wick from the Rosslyn Research Facility , regarding the brown substance sent in last night."

The man's voice was intelligent and low, and he spoke in a matter-of-fact way, as a plumber would when reading off an estimate.

"What did you find out?"

"Well, the first thing we did was test for radioactive materials, but there weren't any.  Next for traces of subtle poisons, like thallium, arsenic, mercury, lead, et cetera.  Nothing again.  We couldn't find any odd bacteria growing on it except for the normal, relatively harmless traces resulting from Earth air exposure; no viruses either.  No special reactions with water or sodium, contains carbon..."

Marlon could hear the man flipping a page over.

"...malleable, sweet smell, tastes like chocolate.  And is."

"Is... chocolate?"

"Indeed.  This stuff is pure milk chocolate.  All the basic ingredients:  sugar, cacao powder, milk, you name it!  Everyone here was completely astounded that the cute and cuddly creatures actually excrete chocolate.  In fact, one of the researchers giggled maniacally at the absurdity."

And that, dear children, is why there are mad scientists.  Any questions?

"OK, so we know it's not toxic-there's a bit of weight lifted off out shoulders.  Now what?"

"We'd like to run a few tests on one of them ASAP so that we can learn more about how their bodies function."

"What kind of tests?  I don't want these things getting hurt-we haven't seen them angry yet."

"Painless, of course.  X-Rays, camera pills (It's a new technology we've been working on.), hair samples.  Just enough to know what makes them tick."

"I'd like to come along, if that's OK.  They trust me, and that will make the situation less intimidating."

"Of course.  I understand completely."

"When did you intend to do this?"

"Possibly today or tomorrow, but it all depends on what's convenient for you."

Marlon swiveled in his chair and looked out the window at the lawn.  Under the floodlights, military personnel were setting up three fifty-pony shelter halls, which were actually small corrugated-metal buildings.  Four hundred-pony shelter halls were being assembled out back.  Each ran the length of its respective lawn and stretched forty feet wide.   Mattresses, food counters, and lights would be inserted later, along with ten port-o-shits (The ponies could be instructed on how to use them if they did not find out for themselves within the first minute or so.) for the fifties and twenty for the hundreds.

"Did you see the D.C. Unveiled episode last night?"

"Yes I did.  I might recommend that we don't use Fluttershy for the tests."

"Indeed.  Pinkie would probably be more accepting, what with her being the optimist of the group.  So you remember that they can teleport things if  they're unicorns?"

"Yes, sir.  Were... you thinking of using that method to get here?"

"Yes.  Celestia knows how to do crazy amounts of magic at once and can probably zap Pinkie and I over there no problem.  That way, we won't need to use a big van or the limo.  People would be swamping me more than normal if I did that.  Might also think we're going to hurt them, and we don't need trouble from overly zealous hippies.  And since you saw the episode, you won't think I'm crazy when I say 'I can just have Celestia zap me over there.'"

"Indeed.  Please come by at your earliest convenience."

"Wilco.  Goodbye."

Marlon hung up the phone.  The verdict on the tobacco bill was still "no."

As Marlon stepped out of the door, he saw hundreds of eyes gluing to him, of ponies and people.

And mice and men.

None of the ponies stamped this time-they were nervous that Marlon was now so close to them.  They knew he could be trusted, but new leaders are difficult to accept without proper personal introduction.  The people outside the fence began to take pictures, but the shutter and applause sounds were drowned out by the drills and hammers being used to erect-

Heh-heh.

the buildings.

He walked slowly toward the technicolor mass, and a clear, wide pathway formed for him.  As he walked through, he noticed that many of the ponies wore stoic or fearful expressions.  He could hear whispers (which must have been quite loud if they could permeate the sound of the tools) and many hoofbeats behind him.  Slowly, the whispers formed into quick, yet discernible words.  One was definitely familiar.

"You ask 'im!"*

"No you!  It was your idea!"

"But ah'm nawt the brave one 'round here!"

"What's he gonna think of us if we intrude like this?"

"We're nawt intrudin'.  He's nawt in the middle of a conversation, is he?"

"No, but he'll think it's a stupid question."

"That has nothing to do with intrusion."

"OK, if you're gonna be the smart one around here, you ask him!"

"I'm not good with words, you know that!"

"Sure you are.  You wrote that really long story about that Appleoosan mine shaft, right?"

"I didn't speak it!  You're just stalling, aren't you?"

"Who says I'm stalling?  What was there to stall for anyway?"

"Sounds like yer just actin' chicken to me."

The whispers stopped for a few seconds.  Marlon then felt a small tugging on his right pant leg.  He turned around and saw three smaller ponies staring up at him.  One was bright yellow with red hair and a bow in her mane, one was orange with slightly frizzy, yet curled purple hair and matching irises (the one that had tugged his pants), and one was Sweetie Belle.  None of them had pictures on their rears.

"Mister Marlon, uh, sir?" said the orange pony in a young teenage girl's voice with a dry undertone.  "I'm Scootaloo, this is AppleBloom, and this is Sweetie Belle," she said, leaning her head to each respective member of the group.  "And we wanted to... uh... ask a little question."

Marlon looked around and saw that the other ponies were still forming a wide path, but no others would come near him.  He knelt to the ground to meet their eyes.

"Go ahead.  I'm listening."

"Well, when you were giving your speech, we heard that you wanted to... uh... give....  You know, AppleBloom puts it much better than I do, don't you?" Scootaloo said as she grabbed AppleBloom's neck from behind and shoved her forward.

"Uh... howdy.  Ah'm AppleBloom, you probably met mah sister AppleJack earlier, and what Scootaloo's tryin' ta say is... we was wondering if... y'all really meant it when ya said ya could... uhm... give us... jawbs?"

"Yeah, I meant it," said Marlon to the pony with the heavy southern accent.  "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Aw, nonononononononono... No.  Ain't nothin' wrong," she said, her face brightening by the second.

"We only wanted to be sure.  It sounded too good to be true.  As if all of us were having the same dream sinusally," said Scootaloo from behind.

"Simultaneously," said Sweetie Belle.  "Sinusally isn't a word."

"What are you, a dictionary?"

"Will you find a new catch phrase?  You said it to me five times yesterday!  Doesn't count the times on Equestria!"

No squeak?

"It wouldn't be my catch phrase if you didn't keep correcting me!"

"Go buy a dictionary of your own then!  That phrase gets old!"

"I can't afford one, you know that!  Not like we had a lot of jobs on Equestria!"

"Well ask somebody for one here so you can stop relying on me."

"I don't rely on you at all!  You keep correcting me!"

"It's hard not to when somepony says 'sinusally!'"

"So I screwed up once, so what?  Why do we have to argue about this?"

"I didn't start this.  You're the one who's being irritable."

"Don't call me things I don't know the meaning of!" yelled Scootaloo, pointing her hoof directly at Sweetie Belle.  The outstretched leg reminded Marlon of a gun barrel, as if the previous statement was a threat.

"It means 'acting as if you're irritated.'"

"I don't have a rash!"

"No, not like that!  Like personality-wise.  You're acting crabby is what I mean."

"I wouldn't be if somepony didn't start this."

"I didn't start anything!"

There it is.

"Gals, gals, gals, stop fightin'!  Stop fightin'!  You're doin' this in front a' the humans' leader!  D' y'all want him to think we're jerks?!" interjected AppleBloom.  Still, no other ponies came forward.

"I'm a might sorry 'bout ma friends here.  They're always arguin' 'bout words an' such."

"Why do you want jobs so badly?" asked Marlon, pretending to ignore the slightly hilarious spectacle.

"'Cause if we don't find sum'n we're good at, we'll never get our Cutie Marks!"

"What's a Cutie Mark?"

"Celestia didn't tell ya?"

"No, but I'm gonna guess that that's what you call that thing on your rears-that little picture.  The word 'mark' was a context clue."

Looks like I'm an English teacher now.  Better remember to look up similes if I have the sudden urge to fap.

"That's exactly what it is!  They appear awn the skin when a pony finds their one special talent-the one thing they do best 'bove awl else.  It's in the DNA, ya know?  We've been tryin' for ages, but, sadly, we're... blank-flanks," she said morosely.  The Cutie Mark was apparently a rite of passage for the aliens, as silly as it sounded.

"Well, hopefully, you can find your talents with a job here.  But remember:  job switching on Earth isn't as easy as you might think.  There's all sorts of paperwork to file."

"Ah know.  Same thing on Equestria.  'Least it'll give us a start."

"I'm sure it will," Marlon said as he ruffled AppleBloom's hair.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find Pinkie."

Sweetie rushed up and hugged him tightly, resting her head on his shoulder.  She smelled like a marshmallow.

"ThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouTHANK YOU!!!"

OH DEAR GOD THAT'S LOUD!!

He hugged her back as AppleBloom said, "Uh, Sweetie Belle, you might not wanna do that right now.  Everypony's lookin' at us."

Sweetie's head began to emit a large amount of heat as she got down, blushing profusely.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she said from the side of her mouth to AppleBloom.

"Have they been looking at us the whole time?" asked Scootaloo.

"Purdy sure," replied AppleBloom.

"Why did we come up here now, then?"

"Seemed like th' only time we could get close to 'im."

"I thought they'd be looking at the army guys setting up stuff."

"Nope.  They're gonna look at the leader first."

"You think Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon saw us?"

"Doubt it.  They're prob'ly still lookin' at th' army guys settin' up stuff; smarts ain't their strawng department."

"Which means I was at least partially right."

"OK, OK, y'all was partially right.  Nawt everypony's lookin' at us."

"Anypony finding it creepy that none of us thought of this before?" asked Sweetie.

"We'd best vamoose.  No point'n attractin' more attention."

"Bye, Mr. Marlon!" said Scootaloo as they ran off in the direction they came, presumably to flank the crowd to come in at the back.

Kids, thought Marlon humorously.  Not as bad when they're not human.  Even though they may be dipshits.

Celestia and the others from the interview were sitting under a wide tree (opposite the gate) beside a rumbling Sunbelt generator for the lights.  As Marlon walked up, Celestia scooted to the right, making room for him between herself and Fluttershy.  He sat down with his ears ringing from the squeak.  Celestia's Cutie Mark sun gazed back at him, while her tail waved rhythmically in the lack of a breeze.  It occasionally brushed against his arm, but he felt nothing, as with Luna.

"So, how was your first run-in with the Cutie Mark Crusaders?"

"That's what they call themselves?" he said with a chuckle.

"Either that or the C.M.C.  Every young pony strives to earn their cutie mark, but those three are unusually obsessed.  They're the only three ponies of their age group that have none.  To me, that means that they will most likely be more successful with their talents than other ponies, since whatever they're good at requires a heavy amount of expertise."

"That's a good philosophy-makes growing up seem worth it.

As for the encounter, it was OK.  They're an interesting bunch-very in-sync with each other.  But how did that one get the name Scootaloo?"

"Her real name is Philomena-named after her mother, but she decided to call herself Scootaloo because she's constantly using her scooter for transportation-uses her still-developing wings like a motor to propel herself."

"Does she have a sibling?  I know Sweetie Belle and AppleBloom do."

"No, she's an only child.  She would have had an identical twin named Zoomie, but she came out of the womb dead, attached to Scootaloo's wings by the back.  However, Scootaloo's own wings were not expected to grow correctly due to shifting in the womb, but Zoomie's were ironically still salvageable...."

Marlon stared back at her with one side of his dropped jaw sticking out in a nearly comical expression of horror.  He found it astounding that she could simply rattle off information like that.

"Please tell me you didn't...."

Of course she did, dumbass!  Why else would she end in an ellipsis?

"It had to be done.  Otherwise, she would have grown up an Earth pony due to recessive genes, and her parents were pegasi and lived in Cloudsdale, where no other pony types can live.  Our clouds were magnetic, and pegasus wings are always of opposing polarity to them, allowing pegasi to walk on clouds.  It's evolutionary.  As for Scootaloo, she'll live the rest of her life with her would-be sister's wings."

Celestia looked deeply saddened, but none of the other ponies seemed to register to such a degree.  Possibly because they were never there to see it happen.

Were they?

Marlon still held the expression.

"Note to self:  don't talk about the wings."

"Don't reference her parents either.  Her father was killed in a train crash, and her mother slowly descended into madness at Zoomie's death.  For a few years, she believed Scootaloo was Zoomie, and thought that it was Scootaloo who had died.  She eventually threw herself off the mountain when they both visited Canterlot.  I guess all that denial caught up with her."

Please fix my mom's brain!

The bridge.  Where was the bridge?  Nebraska or Missouri, Marlon could not recall; it was so long ago.  He still remembered the hot summer sun.  The crowd blocking the traffic on the-

Texas!

-Fred Hartman Bridge.  Marlon's mother, as one final display of power, had dragged him down to Houston to stay with his uncle.  Marlon had been driving his uncle's Ford truck back from a record store, a large shopping bag full of tapes and 33's in the passenger seat, when he approached the massive diamond (rhombus?)-shaped supports holding up the bridge, the oil field smokestacks blasting white smoke into the blazing August sky.  One lane of the bridge was closed, due to a woman hanging off of one of the suspension cables.  She threw herself off as Marlon finally drove by.  He knew who it had been.  He knew the car, the dress, the voice, screaming passages from Revelation-numbers, subscripts, and all.  He refused to stop; he did not want to see what was left of what he had come from floating on the water far below.  He turned up his radio...

And would you cry if I told you that I lied?

And would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?

"Mom...," Marlon whispered under his breath, the grass coming back into focus.  He felt a pair of appendages wrapping around his waist.  Fluttershy was hugging him again, sitting up beside him.

"What's with the sudden hug?"

"You were thinking about something sad.  I don't know what it was, but that glazed look in your eyes gave it away.  I would see it in my animal friends back home, so you really aren't that much different.  So... I thought a hug would make you feel better.  But I can stop if you want me to."

Fluttershy's voice was barely audible over the machinery, but Marlon did not need to hear her at all; her vibes did the talking.  The glassy, enormous eyes staring up at him conveyed compassion and empathy

Aren't those the same thing?  Should look that up.

Marlon put his right arm around the yellow creature in response.

"Thanks for lookin' out for me.  Look, about earlier:  I'm sorry I made you go up on TV at all-for some reason I thought you could deal with the camera-is-a-friend concept.  Shows how wrong I can be."

"It's OK.  We don't know each other very well, so I don't expect you to know much about me."

"Well, I do know some stuff about you-you're shy (There's one thing; the name gives that one away.), you like animals (Don't let me forget to take you to the D.C. Zoo-you'll love it there.), and you've got two massive reservoirs right behind those giant eyes of yours."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no.  It's fine.  I consider it quite amazing that your alien tear ducts can even hold that much water.  One question, though; I never got to ask:  why did your parents name you 'Fluttershy' before you were born?  Wouldn't that be setting you up for a shy lifestyle?"

"Back home, there were machines that could show a filly's or colt's complete genetic layout before birth.  I inherited the shyness gene from my dad.  Babies were usually named for their personality or physical traits."

"Interesting.  See?  Now I know a little more about you.  And that your baby-horse names are exactly the same as ours; that's a little weird, but it's one of those astronomical coincidences, I suppose."

"Out of curiosity, what brought you over here in the first place?" asked Celestia calmly, being that a question that can easily convey hostility.

"I was going to ask Pinkie a question."

"OOH!  What's up Richie?"

Pinkie had been sitting on the other side of Celestia, but began to jump up and down repeatedly with the question in order to make eye contact from above Celestia's head.  Marlon could have sworn he heard a small, source-less "pwing" sound with every jump.

"Um....  One of my colleagues called me up a little while ago and asked if I could bring one of you to his lab for some tests."

Pinkie stopped jumping and yelled, "AWW!  Nobody told me there'd be a TEST!  What kind of a planet is this?  Aliens come.  'Oh, here, you gotta take this test before you can live here.'  This had better have something to do with cupcakes!"

Pinkie performed her imitation of a deep voice at her impression of him while making expressive hoof motions.

"No.  Not that kind of test.  We want to find out about how you ponies' bodies work, so I thought that you could give our scientists a nice introduction.  The tests will be completely painless, of course."

"Okie Dokie!  Sounds nice!  I like science-y stuff!  But you might wanna ask Twilight, since she's bigger into that sort of thing."

"I'll go if you want me to," piped in Twilight from Fluttershy's other side.  "I'm all for the pursuit of knowledge, and it would make me feel good if I could help provide knowledge to others.  If you don't mind, I can bring some of my books."

"AW!  But I thought I was gonna go!  The one test that sounds interesting and I'm thrown out like rotten batter!"

"I don't see why both of you can't go, but I certainly wasn't counting on it.  Then again, it can provide comparison between two completely different gene sets."

"Are you sure they'll be painless?" asked Celestia.

"The man on the phone said they would, but I'd like to go as well, just to be sure."

"But how will you get there?  The rest of your people will hound you all the way."

"Well, that's where I need a favor....  Do you think you could zap the three of us to the Rosslyn Research Facility?  It's on the other side of the bridge over there."

Marlon pointed with his finger to the general direction, which was futile since the bridge could not be seen.

"I could do that, but I'm not sure how that building is constructed.  I could teleport you there and you might wind up stuck in the walls."

"Do you think you could give some coordinates?  That astronomy book references your planet's size and coordinate conversions," said Twilight.

"Uh, sure.  Let me check."

Marlon reached into his pocket and pulled out his Droid phone.  Verizon had given it to him months ago as a beta test.  So far, the thing worked, but its QWERTY slide-out was inconveniently stiff.

Better tell 'em to fix that before it goes to market.

He found the coordinates online and read them off to Twilight, but she did not appear to be listening.  Her pupils had dilated so much that they would most likely have eclipsed the rest of her eye had the purple irises not been in the way.

"What's that thing?" she said, walking over to him and staring at it, mesmerized.

"It's a Droid, but it's only a prototype.  It's actually pretty revolutionary-this is the iPhone's first real competition."

"Can I touch it?"

"Uh..., OK, but be very gentle-it's very rare."

"OK," said Twilight in a trance-like voice.

Marlon held out the rectangular device and returned it to its menu screen.  Twilight touched the screen lightly on the calendar app and involuntarily dilated her pupils even more.  She then touched one of the dates:  May 1st, pulling up a screen that read, "Attend cabinet meeting today at 4.  Discuss religious bias in government."  Twilight moved her hoof to the left while lightly touching the screen as Marlon had done while searching for coordinates, pulling up May 2nd's agenda.

Veto bill about school buses stopping at railroad crossings.  Pretty sure the flashing lights and obnoxious dinging indicate when to stop; buses shouldn't have to hold up traffic by stopping otherwise.

"It's beautiful.  I can write my schedules down so much more easily now," she said in her daze.  She continued to stare until Marlon put it back in his pocket.

"I take it you didn't have a lot of touchscreens back on Equestria."

"No, that's the first I've ever seen.  It's definitely got me curious," said Celestia.

Marlon saw that the other ponies around him were staring at it as well.

"Twilight, do you think you could poof up that book of yours now?" asked Marlon.

Twilight shook her head back and forth violently to snap herself out of it.

"I'm sorry about that.  I've... never seen anything like it."

The book appeared on the ground with a flash as she told the equivalents to Celestia.  Apparently she had been listening to the numbers.

"Everybody ready?" asked Celestia.

"OOH!  This is gonna be fun!  I love being teleported!"

*pwing* *pwing* *pwing*

A bag appeared next to Twilight, pre-loaded with books, as she used magic to push the astronomy one in and place the bag on her back like a saddle.

"Is this gonna hurt?" asked Marlon.  "I probably should have asked earlier."

"Not at all," said Celestia as her eyes began to glow.

"I'll do a small memory wipe so none of the people will remember you were ever out here."

The Rosslyn Research Facility was constructed in 2007 under some Virginia bigwig's order.  It was housed underneath ABC-7 studios in a specially-designed sub-basement, far below the parking garage and only accessible by a certain garage elevator, but required a certain type of keycard to reveal a certain blue button beneath a certain floor tile.  To protect its location, it was given the pseudonym "Tilly's Ice Cream" on the web.  When potential customers found themselves in a parking garage, they would dismiss the address as a fluke and find a Ben & Jerry's instead.  It specialized in biological studies, but was ordered to be kept a secret by the Virginia government so that possible "unethical" practices would not leak.

The last thing that Marlon remembered was staring at Celestia; the next second, he was here, standing and staring at the certain elevator.  He saw Twilight and Pinkie next to him.

"That was incredible!" said an amazed Marlon, feeling around his body to make sure he made it in one piece.  "I think I made it in one piece!"

"Of course.  Magic can affect all life forms, and Celestia's been practicing teleportation for longer than I've been alive.  Don't expect me to teleport you back, though.  I have a difficult time teleporting life-forms to unknown coordinates, but Celestia can take us back to her position," said Twilight, completely unfazed.

"How will she know when to do that?"

"I can send a message to her.  It'll be fine."

"You just said you can't teleport stuff to unknown coordinates."

"Life forms.  I said 'life forms.'  Messages are just pieces of paper and require less magic energy for teleportation, leaving more energy for target-locking.  Celestia would be the target in this case."

"You'll have to teach me more about this stuff; it's nice to know if I need stuff to be teleported."

Twilight magically lifted a sheet of paper from one of the books in her bag and moved it in front of Marlon's face.

"Read this; it deals with magical energy measurements.  You can fold it and put it in your pocket if you'd like; I can magically iron out the creases later."

"Thanks.  I'll read it on the way down," Marlon said as he followed Twilight's advice.

"Down?  Where's there to go?  There's just a bunch of cars here!" pointed out Pinkie.

"How do you know they're called cars?"

"I heard some of your army guys talkin' about 'em on the way to your lawn.  I'm gonna guess you humans use 'em to get around, judgin' by the wheels and stuff.  OOH!  WHEELS!  That reminds me:  whatever you do, don't show these things to Trixie; she hates wheels!  There was this one time that she ordered Snips and Snails to drag her around on a giant carriage with the wheels removed!  I know their spines almost broke, but it was hilarious!"

"Who names their kid 'Snails?'"

"Snails isn't exactly the smartest of our race, so the rumor says his parents named him 'Snails' to indicate that he was 'slow.'  His father was actually a marine biologist (studied snails a lot) and named him that due to the passing on of the gene.  Thus, his Cutie Mark is a picture of a snail.  It's a rare case of a yet-to-be-discovered talent turning into a Cutie Mark.  Same thing happened with Snips; his father was a barber, and his Cutie Mark is a pair of scissors," Twilight explained.

"How would you use scis-oh, yeah.  Magic."

Marlon looked around and saw that there was not another human in sight.  They were all either at work or out to see-

The ship.

Marlon walked to the garage's window-grates and stared at the monstrous disc covering the city.  He could see the edge now, its multiple antennae block-covered center clearly visible, rotating slowly clockwise.  Traffic was jammed across the Route 66 bridge.  Flashes of light emanated from cameras across the edge of the city.

Must have been one hell of a castle to have a shit-tank like that.

He walked back to the elevator, made sure no other humans were around, and pushed the "up" button.  The elevator doors opened after a few moments, and the three stepped inside.

"OOH!  I love elevators!" said Pinkie.  "This reminds me of a time when I was young and went to see the Wonderbolts with Dashie!  There was this really big elevator that took us to our seats in the stadium and Dashie *ha...* Dashie... told the funniest joke about a mare walking into a bar on the way up!"

Pinkie burst out laughing loudly, but Twilight quieted her by shoving her hoof in Pinkie's mouth, creating an odd "thoonk" sound, like a palm being slapped over a wet bottle top.

"Sshh!  Don't start that here!  There could be people here who might freak out at two aliens being in their garage!"

"S... sorry *ha* Twi.  I'll try to keep it under control until la- *ha* -ter."

Marlon pulled the certain keycard from his pocket and pushed the certain button under the certain floor tile.  The elevator began to descend slowly.

"Now, that process I just did is a closely guarded secret, so don't tell anybody, human or pony or any other fully-sentient, language-speaking life forms (if there are any) on this planet."

"Your secret is safe with me," said Twilight seriously.

"And me, too!  What would any of my friends care about some boring button anyway?  They don't even know where this place is!" said Pinkie.

"That's the spirit.  By the way, remind me to thank Celestia for letting me bring you here."

"I don't see why she wouldn't have.  If it's painless and for the pursuit of knowledge, go ahead.  And if they try any funny business, you can order them to stop, right?"

"Of course.  I would never want any of you to get hurt.  The last thing you need to go through is unnecessary pain."

"By the way, since you're finding out about us, do you think you could let us know how you humans work?  Pursuit of knowledge, after all."

"Sure.  I have some books back home about anatomy; you can read those."

Now you can learn about sex by your own goddam self!

Pinkie was muttering to herself about something.  Marlon thought he heard the word "joke" in the mix.

"What was that Pinkie?" asked Marlon.

"I'm trying to remember the joke Dashie told me.  I'm not sure if it was about a mare and a bar?  A mare and a train?  A mare and a chain?  A pickle and a crane?  A donkey and a trombone?  A stick?  Maybe it was a stick.  No, no, that couldn't have been it.  Oh!  It was something to do with royalty.  Yes!  That was it!  I remember!  She called it-"

The doors opened to the dull-white lobby just as Pinkie blurted out the joke's name loudly.  Two men in lab coats walking by the receptionist desk stopped and stared with the most confused looks Marlon had ever seen when the pink, anthropomorphic horse-thing before them yelled, "The Aristocrats."  One began to snicker and walk over to the group as the other continued to stare and Marlon felt his cheeks go hot.

"Mr. Marlon?  I'm North Wick from the phone," said the man as he shook Marlon's hand.  He was about the same height as Marlon and much skinnier, but his voice was similar to Marlon's-deep, but slightly more nasal.  His hair was slightly lighter but in the same skull-fitting style as the president's.  His mouth and nose were visibly thinner and his face was shaven and nearly triangular, but the two men would appear very similar from a distance.  Marlon saw Wick's ID card and saw that his real name was Northrop Wiscreuczyk, but decided not to point it out.  He would simply be known as "Wick."

"So, here they are," Wick said with amazement as he knelt to meet the aliens' eyes.  They smiled back.  Wick held out his hand shakily to Twilight.  "Hello," he said quietly.  "Twilight, I presume?"

"Indeed," she said as she shook back.  "I assume you were the one who wanted us here?"

"I made the call, at least.  Thank you for coming," said Wick in his still-nervous voice.

Wick was quite nervous, judging by his voice.  The man who was previously walking with him slowly moved forward.  He wore a large, dark-brown beard and monstrous wire-framed glasses that would have been in style in the '70's or '80's.  His long, thin nose and rectangular facade left most of his face dominated by cheeks.  He held his hand out to Pinkie slowly, knelt down, and said, "I'm... Gavin Earhart."

"Are you related to-"

"No," Earhart quickly snapped at Marlon's question.  He waited for Pinkie's approval of the handshake.

Pinkie placed her hoof in his hand and they shook slowly.

"Can I pet you?" Pinkie blurted out.

"Wha... why?"

"'Cause you wanted to shake hands, and I think I've done enough of that today.  When do I get to perform some odd physical contact, hm?"

"Pinkie!" Twilight snapped.  "I'm sorry about my friend here.  She's not very well versed in etiquette," she said tensely to Earhart.

"No, it's OK.  She can do it.  So long as she's... very... careful."

Earhart was extremely nervous, and obviously wanted to appease the bizarre life form so that he would not be killed.  Pinkie lifted her hoof up and slowly stroked his ear-length, dark-brown hair.

"Interesting," said Earhart quietly.  "No obvious bone texture from the outside.  Must be covered by layers of fat or muscle."

"You feel really nice, mister!  I think I'm gonna start doing this now instead of shaking!  Hands are so boring!"

Pinkie let her hoof down as Earhart stood up.

"Well, then, shall we start?" said Wick to the group.

The verdict was "yes," and Marlon and the aliens were led from the lobby to a wide hallway to the left of the reception desk (which had been empty this whole time).  The hall appeared to be stolen from a standard office building.  Grey carpeting ran from wall to wall, with rubber strips serving as moulding.  Paintings were hung on the wall at random intervals, often between doors, depicting pleasant scenes such as beaches, forests, mountains, and other landscapes whose golden sun-tones would be ironically complimented with slow jazz or new age music from the '80's.  Marlon began to play Stanley Clarke's Hideaway in his mind to complete the settings.  He was transported to another time:  a time before the advent of a national internet dependence.  A time before that goddam Twitter bullshit came around and conversation meant something.  A time when he could buy records at more than one store per state.  A time when he could be-

-At peace?

Marlon had originally wondered if Wick and Earhart were the only ones here, but he could hear voices behind many of the doors.  He could not hear what they were all talking about, but he knew that aliens were on the brain.

But why aren't they out here?

"We're here," said Wick as they reached the end of the hallway.  An office-style door awaited them, angled J-shaped handle and all.  Wick opened it and ushered the other four inside.  He closed the door behind him.

The laboratory was at least one hundred feet deep and thirty wide.  Along the walls sat a plethora of complicated machinery, containing screens, knobs, buttons, dials, and pressure-sensing flat buttons with small red LED's that presumably lit up when touched.  To the right and left were five separate rooms, but Marlon could only make out an X-Ray emitter in one and a CAT scanner in another.  Those rooms were dark and only illuminated by one red standby light each and the green LED on each computer monitor.  Five steel examination tables were spaced evenly over the inch-wide brown tiles and drains.  Where the group entered, two fluorescent fixtures shone brightly, but no others were active.  Their light carried over as far as it could toward the back of the room, which was bathed in red light like a darkroom.  When Wick flipped a switch on the wall, the rest of the fixtures illuminated, and the room looked like a standard science lab.  He walked to the third and last room on the left and flipped a switch inside.

"In here, please," he said.

The walls were painted a pleasant blue, but white cabinets were fixed all around the ceiling and floor to block most of it, giving the appearance of a large doctor's office.  Each side was about fifteen feet long, and a long window revealed the rest of the lab.  A large examination bed was set up in the center of the room, and Earhart brought metal chairs from other side-rooms.

"Do you want to sit down?  Lay down?  Stand?  Take your pick," said Earhart to the aliens.

"I'll just stand here," said Twilight.

"Me, too!" said Pinkie cheerily.

The rest sat down and Wick shut the door.

"Welcome to the R.R.F.," he said to the aliens as he sat down.  "I know this doesn't look like much of a scientific examination, but we're starting from the ground-up on this.  Before we begin, do you have any questions?"

"Yeah," said Pinkie.  "What kind of a lab is this?  It's all creepy and secret and stuff.  Much different from Twilight's lab."

"Pinkie!" snapped Twilight once more.

"Don't worry, it's fine," said Wick.  "We have to keep this place secret because there are a large amount of humans out there who... go crazy at the thought of animal testing, whether painful or not.  They have legal status and would sue us if they found out.  Some may even go so far as to hurt us personally.  Some science labs have even been burned down by those maniacs.  Amazing at how small the public interest in science is."

"That's horrible," said Twilight.  "I performed tests on animals all the time back on Equestria and never ran into any maniac problems."

"Sounds like a nice place to live," said Wick.  "Any other questions?"

"I wanted to give you these biology books; they might help you out," said Twilight as she levitated the books to the counter beside the scientists.  Their eyes nearly exploded from their sockets.

Earhart picked up one of the books (On Pony Anatomy:  11th Edition) and opened it to the table of contents.  He flipped to a nearby page and found two diagrams of a full-grown pegasus:  one of muscles and one of bones.  Subsequent pages showed close-up diagrams of wings and horns, the subdermal phenomenon known as "the Cutie Mark," and cross-sections of major organs.  Earhart placed the book back on the counter and picked up another one:  "The Definitive Book of Equestrian Pathology:  4th Edition."  Inside were full-colored pictures and cross-sections of bacteria and viruses, along with their symptoms, cures, and prevention methods.

"One of the things I studied at home was whether or not other species could contract our diseases.  They can't, so I wouldn't be too worried about catching any of those," said Twilight to the amazed scientists, who were staring over a page describing a disease known as "the Feather Flu."  The overview read:

This blood-borne, semi-sentient disease only affects pegasi.  It latches on to blood cells immediately upon contraction and rearranges them into wall-like structures in front of the blood vessels leading to the wings so that it can feed on muscle tissue without much interruption from antibodies.  The host experiences prolonged bouts of extreme pain over a three-day period, which has been described as 'a brutal pins-and-needles sensation crossed with implosive muscle spasms.'  Since this pathogen can only reroute blood cells once due to its low energy, the clots will eventually weaken and be destroyed by high blood pressure, allowing antibodies to kill it off.  No instant cures are known, but the duration of the affliction can be lowered with an intravenous injection of pure lime juice, which will acidify the blood for a short period of time to dissolve the clots more quickly.  In order to prevent the spread and contraction of this disease, needles should not be used by more than one pony, and fresh blood should not be handled while there are lacerations (even small ones) on the skin.  The disease can not exist in dried blood or any other bodily fluid.

"That sounds horrible," said Wick.

"Oh, it is.  Once, the entire Wonderbolt team fell sick with it at once.  They're an elite group of athletic pegasi that perform in extreme aerial stunt shows, in case you're wondering."

"How'd they all get it at once?" said Earhart.

Twilight moved more closely to them and said quietly, "They were loading themselves up with steroids before a big show since their practices had been cancelled, and the pony they bought them from must have filled bad syringes.  But never tell Rainbow Dash about this.  She worships the Wonderbolts, and would be incredibly depressed if she finds out they cheated."

"How did you know about it, then?"

"When I was visiting Rainbow Dash in the hospital (she had a broken wing), I heard one of the doctors mumbling about it to a nurse in the hallway."

"Oh yeah!  I heard that, too!  Except he wasn't in the hallway.  We heard it while we were passing one of those exam rooms.  After that, I also heard some smoochy sounds and the nurse started makin' these weird noises.  She was makin' the same sounds I do when... OOOoohhhhhh... THAT's what they were doin!  Wonder why I didn't realize that before?"**

Twilight glared at Pinkie.  Marlon could not help but quietly chuckle at the realization.

"Well," said Wick," shall we begin?"

"OK,"

"Yuppie!"

Wick brought down a clipboard (pre-loaded with "fancy graphin' paper," as Marlon would humorously have called it), a pencil, and two heart-monitor watches from a cabinet.

"How are your hearts powered?"

"Short electric bursts, why?"

"Well, ours are as well, and if your skin is conductive, these watches will monitor your heart rates for the testing period.  Hold out a front leg so I can strap it on,"

Heh-heh.

Twilight complied, and Wick mumbled to himself as he fastened the watch:  "Skin seems completely smooth.  No sensory hairs visible.  Tight-fitting around muscles.  OK, then!  Is that too tight?"

"No, it feels fine.  I used to have one of these, but it didn't monitor my heart rate.  Only told time."

The watch read:  "63 B.P.M.," but occasionally shifted to 64.

"Does that sound right to you?  The 63?"

"Yes, that's my normal rate, If I remember right.  The rates are genetic, though, so Pinkie's'll be different."

Pinkie held out her hoof and Wick fastened hers.

"That too tight?"

"Depends.  For me, it's fine, but if you put this on a tree (not one of those tiny little saplings-one of those really really big ones), it would probably suffocate!"

The watch read:  "190 B.P.M."

"Good God," said Wick.  "Is that really normal for you?"

"Sure, I guess.  Ya know, I've never thought about it before, but I guess it is a little low.  Hey!  That's the first time I've thought about it!  Shoulda brought my camera.  That woulda been a great commemorative photo-op!"

"I know that seems high, but don't worry; she was born that way.  Once, I read it at 310 when she was really hyper," said Twilight.

"Pretty sure that would kill one of us," said Marlon.

"There's more about it in the book, if you're wondering.  Our genes are probably far more complex than yours.  No offense, of course."

"None taken, since gene complexity doesn't correlate with intelligence," said Wick as he grabbed the clipboard and adopted a note-taking stance.

"Anyway, the thing that got us curious about how you work in the first place was your excrement; we analyzed the residue from your feet last night to be sure it wasn't toxic."

"What's so special about it?"

Earhart pulled two Hershey bars out of an inside shirt pocket and said, "Any volunteers?"

"OOH!  ME!  ME!  I like trying new things!" blurted out Pinkie.

He handed her the bar, which she gripped by twisting her hoof around it.  Earhart kept one for himself.

"Just hang on to that for a min...," said Earhart.  "How are you gripping that with no fingers?"

"Mild telekinesis centered around the hooves.  It's a basic magic power every pony's born with," said Twilight.

Pinkie skimmed over the back of the wrapper silently while Wick began.

"Well, our excrement is toxic if ingested, and we wanted to know if yours was, too."

"Why's that so important to you?"

"I assume you haven't told them yet?" he asked Marlon.

"I told them that chocolate exists....  I didn't want to be the one to bring it up."

"Would you kindly open that wrapper?  This way you can find out for yourselves," said Earhart.

Twilight stared at the bar for a moment, then tore off one end with magic, then peeled the sides halfway down.  Pinkie inhaled, then adopted a puzzled expression.

"Is this that chocolate stuff you were talking about yesterday?"

"Indeed," said Earhart as he opened his wrapper.  "Depending on the individual ingredients, this can be quite a valuable material."

"Is that why you keep it in those wrappers?"

"Yes, and the wrapping also serves to preserve freshness.  Otherwise, we couldn't do this."

Earhart took a large bite out of his bar, chewed, and swallowed.  Both the aliens' pupils grew to enormous sizes, and Wick's followed when he saw that the watches both read "0."

"You've... got... to... be... kidding... me...," said Twilight slowly.

"It's edible?  I never knew that!"

"Chocolate is a mass-produced delicacy on Earth.  There are multiple types, such as:  white, milk, dark, extra-dark, semisweet, bittersweet, bitter, and baking."

"Do you use it in cupcakes?" asked Pinkie.

"That's an... odd question, but yes, it can be used for cupcakes."

Pinkie moved it closer to her face and inhaled again.  The heart monitor read:  "190."

"Hey, look at that!  Every one of those little boxes says 'Hershey's' on it!"

"It was made on a machine that stamps that word on it.  The company's founder was Milton Hershey, so they put his name on the bars."

Pinkie continued to stare at the bar curiously.

"Want to try some?" asked Wick.

"I dunno.  You've got me curious, but something seems so wrong about it.  What would you do, Twilight?"

"I... I don't know.  It's... so weird!  Why would you eat this?"

Hers read:  "32."

"Because it tastes good," said Earhart.

"Reason enough for me!" said Pinkie as she took a bite.  She chewed slowly as her pupils grew to nearly eclipse the rest of her eyes.  "0" again.

Silence.

"It's delicious," said Pinkie under her breath.

"What was that?" asked Twilight.

"60" for Twilight.

Pinkie swallowed and restated with slightly more volume, "It's delicious!"

She took another bite and chewed slowly, then swallowed.

"H... how did I not know about this?  It's the best thing I've ever tasted!" Pinkie said softly, as if coming to a monstrous epiphany.

"100" for Pinkie.

"You can't be serious," said Twilight.  "Is that stuff really made of the same ingredients as...?" she said to Wick.

"Ironically, yes.  We thoroughly analyzed it."

Twilight stared back at Pinkie's bar with a trance-like expression, as if the bar was subconsciously calling to her to try it.

"You've gotta try this!" said Pinkie as she shoved the bar up to Twilight's mouth.  "I know you're probably scared, but you'll change your mind, I assure you!"

"I've never heard you say 'assure' before," said Twilight.

"It's 'cause I really mean it!  I'm not afraid to use big words at a moment like this!  This is life-changing!"

Twilight inhaled, then sighed.  She closed her eyes and said, "For science!" as she took a small bite of the bar.  Immediately, her eyes flipped back open and stared down at the bar in her face.

"0."

She took another small bite and chewed as Pinkie had.

"What do you think?" asked Earhart.

"It's... it's... good," she said quietly.  "There's no way!  How is that possible?"

"Your digestive systems obviously work in different ways than ours do, forming synthetic cocoa powder and sugar as products.  Unlike ours which manufacture solid bacteria."

Wick scribbled on the clipboard and tapped it idly as he mumbled to himself:  "Responds to shock with increased pupil size, complete heart stoppage.  Vastly differing heart rates.  Can be convinced to try new things... human-like differing personalities."

"Huh?" asked Pinkie as she grabbed the bar from Twilight and bit in again.

"You've just experienced a basic, qualitative test of shock response.  Fortunately, Mr. Marlon hadn't told you what we really use that stuff for, so the shock was genuine."

"Whatever you do, don't tell Rarity about that.  She'll have a heart attack!" said Twilight.

"It seems so cruel to let her miss out on this!  I've gotta start using this in my recipes!"

"Your hearts stop when in shock.  How is a heart attack for you any different?"

"Our hearts stop, then begin to beat at a backwards pace, causing more blood to flow through smaller veins until... boom."

Every human's jaw dropped at the mention of "the bends from Hell."

"However, they're extremely rare.  So much so that I only know about them from ancient books; I don't believe any have happened in my lifetime.  And Pinkie?"

"Yup?"

"You might not wanna use that stuff in the recipes.  Who knows what would happen if the rest of the ponies found out?"

"Aw, what do they care?  They don't know half the stuff I put in the cupcakes already.  Yesterday was the first time I mentioned the lard.  Besides, won't they find out soon enough that the humans eat it?"

"Well, yes, but... something's so wrong about that!"

"Wrong, but tasty!"

"What if they do find out you're using it?"

"I'll tell 'em it's some Earth plant!"

"They'll know what it smells like, though."

"Lotsa stuff smells like our body fluids!  Remember that punch I made for that party on the ship?  I didn't use sugar-water for it!"

"What did you... for some reason, I don't want to know."

"Fine, but you're missin' out!"

"We'd like to know," said Earhart.

Pinkie walked over to them and whispered to Wick, then to Earhart.  Their eyes widened.

"Do you wanna hear, Mr. Marlon?"

"N... no thanks."

I already know.

"Do you think you could give us a sample?  We could find out if there's a tastes-like/actually is trend here."

"You guys got a bathroom here?" she whispered.

"Yes we do."

"No problemo, then!"

Twilight stared at Pinkie and the scientists blankly as they chattered about various bodily fluids.  She held a perfect poker face and, so far, had showed no signs of emotion or deep distress.

Except for the part about the sugar water.

If what Twilight said was true, she had read far too many books to not know the properties of her own vaginal fluids.  Marlon was intrigued as to what made her nervous, and could imagine multiple possibilities.  She could be a nymphomaniac like Luna, hell-bent on keeping her urges secret.  Or did not want to be the one to explain how sex works to the scientists.  Or she could be so disgusted that she had sipped Pinkie's juices that she tried to deny it altogether.  Or maybe it was-

Please fix my mom's brain!

-blind fear of the subject.  Her simple pursuit of knowledge had lead to-

You've just bought yourself a one-way ticket to Hell, you arrogant MONSTER!!

-...painful experiences.  Years of study had eventually led to... experimentation, which resulted in-

MAY GOD CONFINE YOU TO THE DEEPEST PIT OF HELL, YOU UNHOLY ABOMINATION!!  HOW DARE YOU CALL YOURSELF MY SON, YOU MESSENGER OF BELOW?!  BY THE POWER INVESTED IN JESUS, I SMITETH THEE!!!

-and fear of physical pain each time something remotely sexual was uttered....

The third option made the most sense.

Please, don't let me be the only one....

Marlon stewed in his thought-juices for a few moments, then saw Earhart get up and walk out the door with Pinkie.

"Follow me," he said.  Through the window, Marlon saw him detach a rolling machine from the adjacent wall, then wheel it towards the main lab's door.

"What's that thing he's taking with him?"

"That's an E.E.G.  He'll use it to monitor Pinkie's brain activity."

"I've heard about experiments like this done in M.R.I. scanners.  Why not use that?"

"Because we're not sure if the precursory injection will be toxic to their bodies.  We're starting from the ground-up here, so a ground-up method is what we'll use.

So Twilight, while Pinkie's away, do you think you could explain more of that book to us?"

"That one there," said Earhart as he pointed to a door on the left side of the hall.  Pinkie pushed down the handle and walked inside.  Earhart followed with his machine and a large beaker.  He flipped the lightswitch on.

Had Marlon been present, he would most likely have commented that it was the strangest bathroom he had ever seen.  The walls were fashioned of cinder blocks painted red, and the two stalls of splintery particle board and cheap screw-on hinges, most likely selected from a promotion bowl near a hardware store checkout line.  Two sinks with respective mirrors mirrored the stalls at an odd angle, giving the hand-washer the illusion that the glass would fall on them any moment.  An Excel dryer (the sort which Marlon had affectionately named, "air force dryers") hung on the wall far to the left of the door, which was equipped with a Clean-Escape bar (which was ironic, since the door needed to have its handle twisted to open.  Earhart had secretly equipped the bar with a pressure sensor and counter as a basic experiment to measure how many of the scientists were conscious of germs on the subconscious level.).  One dim, caged fluorescent light fixture above the sinks illuminated the room from its black support beam attached to the black rafter attached to the slightly-higher black ceiling, which came complete with a small speaker, that was quietly playing some obscure, steel-guitar-saturated country tune.

"Is this what your bathrooms normally look like?" asked Pinkie.

"No- this one's a bit different.  One of our researchers (you haven't met him-his name's Tom Kelmer) came up with a hypothesis a few months ago:  does the rustic, southern-style bathroom make someone's bowels move more easily?  From there, we built this room, vaguely reminiscent of a restaurant I used to occasionally visit when I lived in Texas."

"The only part of that I understood was the part about Texas.  And I'm not even sure where that is!"

"It's a part of this country, but far south of here.  It'd be quite a feat to get there without a plane."

"What's a plane?"

"It's a big machine that helps humans fly to far-away places so they don't have to walk or drive."

"Is that one of those reflective birdy-things with the wings that just stay in one place and that farts out a trail of clouds?  'Cause I saw a bunch of those flyin' around when we first landed."

"Yes.  That's it.

Now, we can perform this test in one of two ways:  one, I observe you firsthand, or two, you go into a stall and I observe secondhand, with only the E.E.G. to tell me anything."

"I guess it doesn't really matter, as long as you lock that door first.  I don't want to freak anybody out passing by with this."

"Can do" Earhart said as he pushed the lock button.

"So now what?"

"Well, do you like to... sit down or stand up for this sort of thing?"

"Ya know, I've never really thought about it before, but I guess I prefer to lay against a wall or something like that, but I've tried all the other ones and they feel just as good!"

"OK, then, you can just lean against whichever side you want, and I'm gonna put this on your head," he said as she sat down at the left wall (far enough from the dryer so that her head would be unscathed by the horrific air blast).  He wrapped the E.E.G. band around her forehead and attached additional electrodes.

"What's that thing do?"

"This'll monitor your brain waves.  Our new machine lets me observe the readout on a screen attached to the other side of this box."

He plugged in the box and turned the screen on, which showed a digital version of a wave chart in brilliant green.  The readings appeared as a normal human's would have, which Earhart found odd, since Pinkie was habitually hyper.

"OK.  All you have to do is make sure you ejaculate in this beaker here."

"Okie dokie!" she said as she placed the beaker between her legs.

"You can start whenever you want."

"Alrighty!" she said, but then sat still and made no further movement.  This continued for ten seconds until the skin between her legs retracted seamlessly into her abdomen like a razor blade being placed into the bottom end of its dispenser, and Earhart became the second human to ever view a pony's vulva.

"Just had to concentrate for a bit there," Pinkie said quietly.

She began to place the tip of her hoof around her clitoral area, and as she made contact, a barely audible sound was emitted.  Earhart flipped his head around to the door, believing he had heard a block of wood fall onto some other resonant surface, possibly from another lab.

Another sound.  It seemed to come from nearby, but was distant and muffled.  It could not have been Pinkie, for she was slowly rubbing herself as a human female would.

Again.  Still distant, but slightly closer.  Were multiple labs working on the same thing?

Pinkie emitted a small sound from her mouth-a high-pitched "MM!"

Another sound, still dull, still resonant.  Pinkie's brain waves were becoming stronger.

Two sounds in a row.  Three.  Four.  They were evenly metered, and Earhart now knew what the now-clear sound was:  Twilight walking down the hall.  He did not know why Wick would have sent her out here, but she must have been frightened of being alone in this new scenery, since her steps were slow.

"Hold on a sec," he said to Pinkie, still rubbing, still scrunching her face in and out, but emitting no semblance of moaning.

He opened the door enough for his head to reach through, and stared down both ways.

No Twilight.

Where could it be coming from?  Out here it seemed to be coming from inside the bathroom, but the machine's whirring was soft and the speaker was soft and the light fixture's humming was soft and Pinkie's sounds were soft.  Why was this sound sourceless?

He decided to continue observing Pinkie.  Her legs were contracting and releasing slowly under the pressure, and her strokes came more quickly.

So did that damned sound.

He looked around the room a final time before perishing the thought, then noticed that the meter of the sounds matched Pinkie's movements.  Each time she stroked, a sound was emitted.  The muscles inside her must have grown so tight under the pressure that every impact resulted in a... sort of "clopping" sound.***

But why did it come from different directions?

As Earhart began to question what evolutionary purpose that sound would serve, her remembered that the female arousal moans seemed to serve an equally nonexistent purpose.

The strokes grew stronger, the brain waves higher.  The heart monitor read 230.  She was nearing orgasm.  Her tongue began to hang out of a dumb smile under half-closed eyes.  It made Earhart remember the first time he had ever ejaculated.  He had been looking at one of his brother's girly magazines in his closet with the admiration of an art critic, when his penis decided it no longer fancied being trapped in sweaty underpants and tried to stand up to break free.  But when he tried to silence it by placing one leg over another to push it down, he realized that that was exactly what his dick had wanted him to do.  He obeyed multiple times, then his dick decided it was not meant for power and sneezed all over his shorts.  He would never forget that beautiful clamping feeling he had felt so many years ago.  It was the best feeling he had ever felt aside from having real sex numerous times in college.  Seeing Pinkie near climax made his gadget stiff with sweet reminiscence.

Good God, this is awkward.

Her cheeks became blood-red as she began to hold her breath, making her heart rate increase to 300... 302... 304... 307...-

"MM!"

-308... 310.  The E.E.G. was stacking tall, nearly-vertical lines on top of each other at an astounding rate.  The tracks on the screen closely resembled tracks on a sound editing program.  Earhart pulled out his pocket notebook and began to scrawl down his observations, but left a large space at the bottom for the orgasm symptoms.

Pinkie lifted the beaker to her vulva and contracted her legs one final time, the motion corresponding with her tight jaw, violent shivering, and vocalization:  "Hold... it down...."

"What was that?"

"H... hold the beaker... up to me....  Can't hold... longer...."

Earhart complied, all the while thinking to himself, It's for science-it's for science-it's for science!

Pinkie began to shiver more violently than before.

"G... grab my b...butt.  U...use it f...f...for leverage...."

It's for science-it's for science-it's for science!

Pinkie's body "jumped" three inches into the air and fell down again.  Then back into the wall and up four.  Down again.  Her middle body began to expand two feet outward in all directions, like a giant balloon, which pushed her away from the wall.  She "deflated," but her face began to jump in all directions, making bizarre, tight facial expressions, the pupils dilating and contracting quickly, the jaw tightening, relaxing, and tightening again.

"Come on... just... r... rub my vagina one last time... that'll set it off for good."

For science!  For science!

The texture was remarkably similar to a human female's genitalia, but he had only a second to experience it.

"Put... your fingers... IN!"

"But I-"

"N...Now!"

It's for science!  I am only getting hard with sweet reminiscence!

He placed his two forefingers in the vaginal opening, once again with a remarkably similar texture to a human female's genitalia.

"B...brace yoursseEELLFF!"

"Did you hear that?" asked Marlon.

"Hear what?" replied Wick.

"...It was a bit of a blasting sound... like one of those handheld pressure-washers or air jets."

"Are you sure?"

"It could have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I heard something... ever so faint though."

"Do you think it was a pipe bursting?" asked Twilight.

"I doubt it.  We keep the plumbing down here in top shape.  Just had the pipes inspected recently."

"Do you think it had something to do with Earhart?"

"What could he possibly do that would make that so-"

Wick flipped back from the section on pony bones to the table of contents.  He found a chapter with his finger and flipped to it.  He read for a few moments.

"It may very well have," he said, directing the other two's attentions to the page with a massive cross-section of a vagina printed on it.  The section he was pointing to read:

Due to genetics, each pony's orgasm symptoms vary, but a small amount of subjects have been known to emit an extremely forceful blast of fluid from their vaginal openings upon climax.  The fastest blast known was clocked at 20 Wp, but undocumented stronger ones may exist.

"What's 'Wp?'" asked Marlon.

"Wing power.  It's a measurement of speed gauged by how many times a pegasus can beat its wings in a tenth of a second.  It was standardized hundreds of years ago."

"We'll just have to see what happens when he comes back," said Wick gravely.  "Let's hope he wasn't hurt in the process."

"Shouldn't we go to help him?"

"If it wasn't what we think it was, we might disrupt his observations.  He'll use the call-button in the bathroom if he needs help."

"I guess you're right," said Marlon, imagining what the call button in the bathroom would normally be used for.

Help!  Help!  I'm out of T.P.!

After five minutes of reading about alien genitalia (which was a refresher course for Marlon), Earhart and Pinkie came back to the lab.  Earhart re-latched the E.E.G. and Pinkie walked into the exam room ahead of him.  Pinkie kept her happy demeanor, but Marlon could sense a twinge of inebriated relief in her eyes.  When Earhart walked back in, Marlon saw that his right hand was slightly red and raw.  The sound had indeed been what they had envisioned, and Earhart's hand had stared down the force of something near 20 Wingpower.  In his good hand, he held the now-cracked beaker, which was half-full of a clear liquid, and the most insane E.E.G. printout Marlon had ever seen.  Most of the tracks had been painted completely black.

"Well, here it is," Earhart said wearily, placing both objects on the counter.

"Are you OK?" asked Wick.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine.  Needed a little extra... force to speed things along, as you can probably guess.  It's a little raw, as you can tell," Earhart replied, lifting his raw hand.

Twilight's horn began to glow, and the hand regained its normal color.  Earhart expanded his eyes into a bewildered expression.

"Basic healing power.  Just added back a new set of skin cells."

"Are they based off my DNA?"

"Yes.  The spell analyzes multiple, healthy skin cells, then clones them."

"How do you know if they're healthy?"

"The spell analyzes the surrounding cells, then determines what type is the majority, presumably the healthy ones.  Your skin was surprisingly easy to clone, but that's probably due to the chromosome difference."

"How deep can you heal?"

"I can only do cuts, bruises, nicks, scrapes, etc.  Celestia can heal internal organs much better."

Earhart examined his hand, which now had lost all soreness.  Every hand line was the same, and every hair was in its rightful place.

"This will revolutionize medical technology," he said quietly.

"What was that?"

"We need to find out how that works.  The entire course of medicine will be changed," said Earhart excitedly.

As the two scientists discussed the course of medicine with Twilight, Marlon pulled out his dead-zoned Droid to double-check his schedule for the day.  At three he had his pre-scheduled cabinet meeting, and the time was now 2:30.

Sore gums.****  Better get going.

"Hey guys, I don't want to rain on your parade just yet, but I have a meeting at 3, and I have to get going.  Twilight, can you send a message to Celestia to zap us out of here?"

"Pen and paper?" she asked.

Wick pulled a pen and a sticky note from a cabinet.  Twilight magically uncapped the pen, and wrote "Zap" on it.

"Wait," said Wick.  "Before you go, do you... do you think we could hang on to these two for a little bit?  There's so much more to learn!"

"I'm not sure if I should.  It's not that I don't trust you guys, it's... it's that I don't trust you guys.  Not necessarily you two, but those other people in the other labs who might get too headstrong.  I can't risk any painful tests on these two.  Celestia would freak out if she knew they were being hurt.  And by the way, why aren't the rest of the scientists here?  I'd think they'd be more interested."

"Have a little more faith in us, Mr. Marlon.  Remember, these are sentient, speaking beings.  Just like humans, we wouldn't do anything they won't consent to.  And... I know how odd this sounds, but... they were scared."

"Scared?"

"Of the aliens.  That's why they continued to work on their previous experiments.  We told them that we wanted to study the aliens and they became quite nervous."

The hypno-blast!  But what makes them immune?

"It's rather sad that we could be the only scientific entourage for today."

"I'll stay," said Twilight.  "I'll stay as long as you need," she said.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Twilight."

"Sometimes, science can be painful.  It's perfectly natural."

"But what about Celestia?  What will she think?"

Twilight scribbled on the note:  "I'm staying.  It's OK here."

"Can I stay too?  I kinda like this secret underground lair.  I want a secret underground lair!" piped in the recovered Pinkie.

"Pinkie too," Twilight scribbled.  She then zapped the note into nothingness.

"Don't worry, Mr. Marlon.  They're safe with us," said Wick.

"Besides, I can always zap another note if things get out of hand."

"See ya, Richie!" said Pinkie happily.

"But-"

The men had made decent progress on the bunkers, which was quite impressive, since Marlon had only been gone an hour.

"Don't worry, I got Twilight's message," said Celestia from somewhere behind Marlon.

"Are you sure about this?" Marlon said as he turned to face her, sitting with the same ponies she had been sitting with an hour ago.

"Twilight's an expert at sensing other ponies' inner characters.  Why shouldn't it apply to humans?"

"Because..."

Worked on Luna, didn't it?

"No reason."

"Don't sweat it, Sugarcube," said AppleJack.  Twi's gun' be juuust fah'ne."

"Well..., I have to get ready for a meeting.  I'll see you guys later."

"We'll be out here," said Celestia.

"Na's guy, I reckon," said AppleJack after Marlon had walked out of earshot, through the opening path between the Equestrians.

"Indeed," said Celestia, with microscopic uncertainty.

"He got tha Lewna Treatment, di'n't he?"

"Afraid so," replied Celestia.

"Sum'n in yer ah's gives it away ev'ry tahm."