While Sunset and I were on our way to the Sisterhooves Social, I paused at the library. The visit ended up taking a little longer than I’d anticipated. Bible was there, apparently having been forgotten when the girls went to Manehattan. Twilight must be getting better at hiding her feelings. She’d barely had any awkward encounters at all with him in the last few weeks.

The tequila was where I had left it, but most of the time I spent was talking to Bible.

Well, that, and there’d inexplicably been a lot of lamb blood spread all over the inside of the library.

I stared at it and turned to Bible for an explanation.

“It appeared while I was out shopping for groceries,” he said. “To be fair, I was gone a while. Still getting used to eating.”

“So what is it?” I asked. “Doesn’t look Satanic.”

“You’re right. It’s Angelic.”

“What's it for?”

“While I recognize some of the inscriptions, I’m a little rusty on their meaning. A bible is not exactly a spellbook. If I had to take a guess, though, I think it’s a death curse that would strike you if you touched anything.”

Fortunately, I had a bottle of tequila and poured some out, lighting it up and smudging the lines. “Good enough?”

“Yes, that should do it. Let me know if you feel dead.”

Something struck me. “You haven’t seen Sir Win recently, have you?”

Bible frowned. “No. Why?”

“Just wondering. I consulted with him recently about a Satanic lamb blood death curse.”

“Wow, who’d you piss off?”

“This time? Your guess is as good as mine.” Privately, shit, Heaven and Hell must be working against me. I hadn’t realized I was up against those odds. Lord knew my Godly façade only worked as long as I kept insisting to ponies. I had plans to eventually go on up the ladder and make it legit. As it was, I had to work hard. To be fair, my government/spying/awesome weapons programs did work pretty well.

But that was a problem for another time. I wasn’t going to keep Sunset waiting. The two of us left the library and went on.

The extended CMC - Rumble, Pipsqueak, Cordoba, Strawberry Glaze, Inkspot, and Paperwork - appeared again. This time, it looked like Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo had gotten the news that Applejack, Rarity, and Rainbow Dash were indisposed. That meant my favorite competitors wouldn’t be facing nearly the same competition.

However, Big Macintosh appeared in drag to partially mitigate that. Listening to him speak in falsetto was so embarrassing that I cringed.

The clothes would have given Rarity a heart attack, even I could see that. They were probably put together from whatever Mac could find in the Apple Family attic. Nothing up there was labeled. It made searching through their stuff pretty hard. At least it was all in boxes and properly cared for, unlike Rainbow’s attic.

As Sweetie was quick to point out, the dress-wearing newcomer was clearly Big Mac. In fact, I can’t imagine anyone, even in a notoriously oblivious town like Ponyville, wouldn’t see through it.

Especially that creepy, wrinkly old stallion making eyes at Mac.

The competitors lined up as we found seats. Sunset laid out the snacks and asked, “Who do you think will come in second?”

I smiled. “Probably Apple Bloom and Big Macintosh. Mac apparently used to do the Running of the Leaves before Applejack, plus he’s a goddamned tank.” And a werewolf, as Mac had privately revealed to me once. But that was a secret, and I kept those. Encoded my tape recorder, you see.

Down on the field, the entrants were lining up. Trixie wore her viking helmet tombraided from Yakyakistan for the occasion. A few of the competitors had worn small accoutrements for the event, so it was not out of place.

Well, okay, it kind of was considering Trixie had probably dismembered a dead yak to make it, but the Social was about to start and nobody wanted to be the one to interrupt the event.

The Mayor was getting ready to announce the event, so I went over to the stage.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts, thank you for coming today. As you all know, this is a very special annual event first founded by Granny Smith Apple.”

I took the microphone from her. “And what a shame it is she is no longer with us. However, her legacy lives on. And I want you all to take a special moment on this National Valiant Day to appreciate your lives as they are. You’re welcome.”

“What holiday is this?” the Mayor muttered. “I don’t remember approving anything.”

There was also some muttering among the crowd, but most of them just seemed to roll with it.

Speaking of rolling with things, a tank crashed through the stage just then. The Mayor went flying. I ended up awkwardly straddling the barrel.

“The hell?”

“On the contrary,” said an automated voice that sounded a little like the perpetually condescending tone of Alan Rickman. “Though if you don’t heed my warning, you may end up there.”

“What? Hell?”

“Worse. Wisconsin.”

“Big deal. I’m from there, asshole. Why are you suddenly speaking up now?”

“Because I had a point to make. These witnesses will remember this moment as the beginning of your downfall.”

“Why don’t you suck my dick? Oh wait, you don’t have a mouth.”

The tank did not reply. My logic was too much for it, methinks.

I slid off the barrel and it reversed through the hole it had made in the stage, disappearing back into town. The Mayor and the crowd slowly began to return.

I shrugged. “Well, I think we can all agree that we don’t like metal machines destroying our stuff. Just remember one name: Skynet. Don’t do it, folks.”

I dropped the microphone and sauntered off the stage. The Mayor, deciding that it was best to distract the citizenry as soon as possible, promptly started the event.

Big Mac made it back to the starting line just in time. I wondered where he’d been. As he lined up, I just caught the tip of a bushy tail vanish beneath the dress he wore. Ah, so Clifford the Big Red Wolf had probably freaked when the tank had come crashing in. Mac was usually pretty stoic, but with Apple Bloom potentially exposed to danger, I could see why he’d nearly lost his cool.

Even in pony form, he was certainly no force to trifle with. The starting horn went off and he and Apple Bloom took off near the front of the pack. Through the events, they maintained close to the lead.

Apple Bloom bobbled a few things and Mac compensated, crashing barriers and shoving ponies to the side down the final stretch.

I measured the distance with my eyes. Trixie was out ahead, going for the finish line as fast as her extra-legged form could carry her. Mac was coming like a steam engine and was going to catch up.

Trixie glanced back, seeing the trail of destruction in Mac’s wake and the determined look on his face. She glanced at the finish line and I could tell she’d reached the same conclusion that I had.

So she did something about it. Spinning around and planting her eight hooves firmly, her horn lit up. The horns on her viking helmet did not, but they sure looked menacing.

I could see the immovable object, unstoppable force situation coming. And when they met, there was a flash that made me blink spots out of my eyes.

Trixie had been driven into the ground, digging eight furrows. Mac had tumbled over her, landing on his face with his hind legs in the air. I saw that he’d had the decency to wear bloomers with the dress.

Both of them had spirals for eyes. Okay, not really, but they would have if this was a cartoon.

“The winner!” announced the Mayor, pinning a blue ribbon on the filly that crossed the line first.

Sunset and I went down to the track. Trixie was moaning and holding her head. So was Mac.

“Did we win?” Trixie asked faintly, eyes shut.

Nearby, Mac was asking Apple Bloom “Did we win?” He’d forgotten his female farce. Probably okay, since his clothes had been blown off in the dustup.

He and Apple Bloom had a moment. It was something heartfelt about how they still loved each other despite one crossdressing in an attempt to make up for a perceived lack of sibling attention.

Not my gig, so I turned my focus elsewhere. Namely, the sky where Tin Mare was coming back with Braeburn.

“She needs help,” he said as the two of them landed. Ponyville residents scattered. They knew enough by now to get out of the way.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“She’s blind. Her camera is broken .” Braeburn sounded honestly concerned. “Can you fix it?”

I laughed. “You honestly think I can’t fix something that I designed and built?”

“Well I can see you don’t think of her as a special snowflake, so I was hoping you might have done some mass production.”

I frowned. “What’s with you? Since when do you have an opinion on what I do?”

“Since when do I…” Braeburn stared at me and then shook his head. “Look, Tin Mare needs help.”

“Sure, sure.” I look a look at the jet’s underside. “Whoa, where did all this blood come from?”

“Being unarmed for the trip to Manehattan, I was forced to use tackle on a group of hostiles,” Tin Mare explained.

“I knew it was a good idea to teach you that move. Was it super effective?”

“One hit KO,” she confirmed. “However, a spell broke my electro-optic interface.”

“I thought you said it was a camera,” said Braeburn.

“It is a camera. I speak this way to Valiant because it may help him diagnose and fix the problem.”

“All right, better get started on that,” I said. “Tin Mare, are you good to get back to base on GPS?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t I at least get a thank you for helping her get back to Ponyville?” Braeburn said.

“Thank you,” said Tin Mare.

“For somepony who claims to be a robot, you have better manners than some,” Braeburn muttered. He turned to walk away, but paused when he realized where he was. He looked around at the Social-goers. “Mac, why are you wearing makeup?”

I didn’t hear the rest of it because I was already heading back to my place. Tin Mare knew where her designated landing pad was, and didn’t require any help navigating.

That was good. I had a party to host.