A Slimy Ghost

Our Girl Scootaloo

by Cozy Mark IV

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan-made work of prose. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is the property of Hasbro. Please support the official release

Chapter Two: A Slimy Ghost

I got a job across state lines in the big city, and we moved into a modest house on the opposite side of the city. In this state we could adopt a child, and we soon had the paperwork filed for our adopted daughter Scootaloo.

"So I'm officially part of the family now? That is so cool! Does this mean I won't have to hide anymore?" She asked pleadingly.

"It won't be much longer now, Scootaloo."

On one of last trips to the hospital before the big day Mary showed us something strange on the MRI image from last time.

"These spots on the top of her brain, isn't that where the contacts for her prosthetic are?"

I looked at Kevin, mortified. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine as far as I can tell, but these spots look almost like RFID tags or tiny antennas…" She frowned "Is it possible her body is adapting, trying to improve the sensitivity of the connection?"

Scootaloo looked puzzled. "Does that mean I'm some kind of Borg pony?"

Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "You let her watch Star Trek?"

I smiled as Kevin got down on his knees and made a show of looking Scootaloo over before pronouncing "Nope, you 100% pony. Know how I know?" She shrugged her right arm. "Because Borg ponies aren't TICKLISH!" They rolled on the floor laughing as he tickled her ribs under the saddle bag and the rest of us thought 'Awww!'

After the usual samples were taken and cataloged, Mary made sure the MRI room was empty and I unbuckled her prosthetic arm, but as Scootaloo got closer to the scanner she started to fidget with her wings.

"Daddy, my wings feel funny." Her face took on a confused look. "And kind of ouchy." Stephanie was already at her side and looking her over.

"Does it hurt when I do this? This?" She put both wings through their full range of motion with no ill effects. Scootaloo was quite a trooper and didn't complain easily. More than once she had come in with a skinned knee or scrapped flank without letting us know because: "You make such a fuss! I'm fine!"

"Are you ok to finish up the scan? It might tell us if something is wrong with your wings."

Our little foal squared her shoulders and looked determined. "I can take it. Its not that bad." And with a sidelong glance at me: "I'm not a little foal anymore," she pouted "I'm a big girl now."

We had to tell not to squirm because it would ruin the image, and she set her jaw, tucked her nose under my chin and nodded. Every time the MRI started up I could feel her tense up and shiver a bit, but she stuck with it, and we soon finished and left Mary and Stephanie to look over the image. Moments after stepping out the door of the MRI room she seemed to perk up.

"Hey, it doesn't hurt anymore!" We gave each other relived looks and hugged her close as she squirmed "You guys! It was just a little ouchy, I'm fine."

We opened the door to the MRI room and went back in to tell Mary had Stephanie, but Scootaloo walked slower and slower as she entered the room.

"Hey ow! Now my wings hurt again."

Mary came out from behind the computer console. "I'll bet they do, now out with you, all of you! Shoo!"

We scurried back to the waiting room with Mary in tow, and again Scootaloo perked right up within a few steps. "Hey, I feel better again!"

Kevin and I looked at each other, then Mary. "I think I know what's happening." She said pulling up the MRI image on the computer terminal in the corner. "See these shadowy blurs around her mid section? Those distortions in the image follow the outline of her wings. The only thing that can cause distortions like this is metal of some kind."

We all looked at Scootaloo who fluffed out her wings and examined them carefully before looking back at us with a confused expression. "I have metal in my wings? And metal hurts?"

Stephanie joined us and pulled the door closed. "I looks like you are growing some kind of pattern with metal parts in there." She said as she knelt and stroked a wing. "And metal can heat up in an MRI scanner –its because of the magnets. It doesn't look like an illness, the pattern is the same in both wings, but until we figure out what is going on I think you and your Daddy get to skip the monthly MRI."

That seemed to satisfy her "Yay! The MRI is sooo boorring! And I have to hold still for soooo long!" She hopped and pranced a bit before a thought hit her. "Does this mean I am a Borg pony all full of impants and natobots and stuffs?"

"No sweetie," Stephanie chimed in. "I don't know what this is, but it doesn't look like a disease –it's the same pattern on both sides, so apparently you're supposed to grow up like this." Then to us: "We'll keep an eye on this, but it doesn't look threatening yet. We will just have to use the ultrasound next time."

Scootaloo gave us a sharp look "An ultra what? Am I going to have to hold still again for this?"

"No sweetie, you can move around if you need to, and its usually faster, but it does involve goo."

"Goo?" She asked.

An hour and one full body ultrasound later found us herding our little one into the hospital shower. "OOOHHHH! I am a slimy ghooooost!" She wailed as she slid into the shower and I helped her set the water temperature. Kevin waited outside while I wondered about the wisdom of letter her watch Ghostbusters. A passing janitor mopping the floor looked up at Kevin as an enthusiastic rendition of the 'Sponge Bob' song rang loudly from the shower.

"Aren't they just adorable at this age?"

With pressure mounting from Mary, we made some discreet inquires into the only news outlet that could safely release the news of our little one to the world –NPR radio. They had already run a few small pieces on the mysterious DNA sample no one could explain that was revolutionizing medical science, and when we called and identified ourselves as the source they were skeptical, but agreed to send a Ms Neighmond.

We had Scootaloo wait in her room while we sat with Patti and went over the full file; the time portal, the medical records, photos of her growing up, everything we knew. When we were finished she was silent for a moment.

"This has got to be the most elaborate hoax I have ever seen. You have obviously spent a lot of time on this, but why would you concoct this ridiculous story?"

"Scootaloo" I called down the hall, "please come say hello to our guest."

The only sound was the clop of her hooves as she trotted down the hall, right up to Patti and held out a crayon drawing with her prosthetic right arm. "Hi Ms Patti! I drew this picture of you reporting on a health policies."

...Thank goodness for smelling salts.

Patti had to bring several people from the editor's desk before they finally ran the story on the radio, and as we requested, they made the entire file and all the information available online except the pictures, only a few of which went up. This had the desired effect of spreading the impact over a couple of weeks as the world gradually got wind of the 'fact' that NPR had collectively lost their minds.

As various people with knowledge of science sifted through the records, the consensus soon developed that this was somehow real, even as the pundits continued to slam NPR. At the three-week mark Scootaloo, Kevin and myself made our first appearance on a major network and introduced our family to the world. Into the astonished silence we all asked the same thing, but Scootaloo summed it up best:

"I don't know where I came from or how I got here, but I have friends to play with, teachers who care, a good home and two daddies who love me. Please don't take that away from me."

As the world looked into her big purple eyes there wasn't a dry eye to be had in the house.

Then next month was a roller coaster ride of publicity, stress and interviews. We did what we could to shield her from it all, but some things were impossible to hide. During one interview while Scootaloo was talking about her favorite flavors of ice cream a man stood up from the audience and began shouting obscenities.

"YOU FAGGOTS ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL, ALONG WITH THAT GODLESS ORANGE FREAK!"

There was a lot more about evil liberals, black helicopters, and something about a pagan spaghetti monster being in violation of the word of god as security hauled him out. Poor Scootaloo cowered in my arms until everyone settled down and then looked right at the anchor and asked in a shaking voice "Why does that man hate my daddies?"

Dead silence followed.

"Daddy," she almost whispered "am I a freak?"

Tears flowed, and we held her while she sobbed, comforting her as best we could. That one clip was probably played more than any other over the next week, and painful as it was, it seemed to help. The hate mail our friends had been sorting though dropped way off, and the news cameras seemed to keep a more respectful distance.