So, trying to figure out anything from Fluttershy turned out to be a bust.

Shocker.

“My psychic powers are… telling me something…” I rubbed my forehead with two fingers as we walked, earning another long sigh from Spitfire.

“Don’t ask,” she didn’t even bother turning to Soarin. “Don’t even ask, he wants you to ask.”

“Wait…” Soarin frowned, the midday sun glaring down on us. “So, if I don’t ask, then I won’t know what he’s talking about…”

“That’s the point,” Spitfire seethed quietly. “Just keep walking.”

“The ether is telling me something,” I tried to say mystically, nudging my other hand toward my stomach so that they would get the hint.

“Thank you, Toothpick, we know you’re hungry.”

“Hungry?” Soarin blinked. “Oh, dude. Why didn’t you just say so? Hey, Spit!”

Spitfire sighed.

“We should grab lunch,” the pegasus grinned, delighting in Spitfire’s agitation.

“Ah, yes…!” I threw my hands out in front of myself, scrunching up my nose. “I predicted that he would say that!”

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake Phil,” Spitfire groaned. “That’s – Soarin, explain before I get brain damage.”

“I can’t help you there,” Soarin shrugged. “Heck, I didn’t even know you had brain damage. I always thought you were pretty normal.”

“… I’m completely surrounded by idiots,” Spitfire whined into one hoof.

It didn’t take us too much longer to make the trek back to Ponyville. I was just kind of sad that we didn’t stick around Fluttershy’s place for some free food, but in hindsight she probably just had a bunch of carrots or something. And the longer I thought about it as we walked, with me desperately clinging to my towel the whole way, the more a dreadful thought occurred to me.

What if I couldn’t eat anything?

I mean, everything looked real enough, but what if the food tasted like paint or something? Or worse, what if everything was just a hay substitute? I was pretty sure these ponies wouldn’t share my taste palette of McDonalds and barbeque sauce.

“Something is wrong…!” I declared in my ‘psychic’ voice once we reached the few small buildings littering the outskirts of Ponyville again.

“I noticed that when you showed up, Phil.” Spitfire deadpanned, her shoulders slumped. I think she was getting tired of listening to the two of us yammering about lunch the whole way.

“Hmm, no, about our lunch…” putting on my best ‘spooky’ voice and wriggling my fingers in midair. Soarin looked slightly creeped out, but I think Spitfire was only annoyed.

“I’m not asking what it is. If you have something to say then just spit it out.”

My arms collapsed to my sides, and I nearly lost my towel.

“Killjoy,” I harrumphed. “I’m not so sure I’ll be able to eat anything.”

“There, see?” Spitfire smiled at last, which looked kind of odd on her normally serious face. “Was that really so hard?”

“I thought you were hungry?” Soarin shuffled his wings as we approached a small outside diner. Several patrons immediately left upon seeing me, as well as one or two of the staff. I was fine with that, mostly. The ‘awe’ of being in a whole new world had pretty much worn off by that point. I was tired, hungry, and ready to go home.

Preferably with pants on.

“What do you eat, anyway…?” Soarin asked in curiosity as we settled down at one of the wooden tables littering the pavilion. “I don’t think you’ve said anything about it since you got here.”

“Well, this is definitely strange,” I laughed awkwardly as the area was slowly but steadily vacated by nervous ponies throwing glances my way. “Sitting in the middle of an alien café, just chatting away like it’s normal, feels really surreal, you know?”

My voice was getting uncomfortably difficult to control the longer Spitfire stared at me from across the table as she sat.

“You didn’t answer the question,” she narrowed her eyes. “And we’re not in the center, it’s literally by the sidewalk.”

“Figure of speech,” I said flippantly as I picked up a small picture laden menu that was written in a language I’ve never seen before.

“… Oh my Celestia, he eats PONIES!” Soarin shrieked in horror, falling out of his chair and scrambling away backwards in terror.

Neither Spitfire nor I moved.

“No he doesn’t,” she deadpanned at the same time that I denied eating horse meat, although Burger King might have insisted otherwise.

Soarin collected himself after a moment, laughing awkwardly and very thankful that nobody seemed to have noticed that he nearly wet himself.

“Right, right, of course…” he chortled uneasily, sitting much closer to Spitfire this time. “Ha, because that-that would be silly.”

“How could you tell?” I peered over the menu that I was pretending to read at the flame-maned pegasus.

“I’ve seen carnivores,” she shrugged absentmindedly, rifling through a menu herself as one of the confused waiters finally peered out from the café’s kitchen to look at our strange trio. “You don’t really match the description. Toothpick.”

I’ll admit, that one kind of stung a little.

“Humans are mainly omnivores,” I explained a little sheepishly as Spitfire distractedly brushed a lock of mane from her face. “Meat and vegetables. I go both ways.”

“Called it,” Soarin raised a hoof with a smirk.

Spitfire giggled. I have no idea why, but that really set me off for some reason. I mean, it wasn’t like I was jealous of the pegasus for having made her laugh, of course not.

Because that would be silly.

I frowned, crossing my arms across my bare chest.

“Ha ha, har de har har,” I scowled.

“I’m just surprised that you think that the opposite of ‘meat’ is vegetables,” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Just try not to go on any blood-filled rampages, ‘kay Toothpick?”

“No promises,” I deadpanned.

“Hey!” she raised her hoof at the befuddled waiter lingering by the kitchen door, wondering if he should have made a run for it. “Hey, buddy. We’re ready to order.”

“Oh, uh…” Soarin frowned suddenly, patting himself down. “I, uh… heh, must have left my bits at home…”

He turned to me, and I grinned.

“Yeah, sure. I can cover it for you, I’m loaded.”

He blinked in confusion and started to open his mouth before Spitfire cut him off.

“He thinks he’s being funny by being sarcastic, Soarin,” she clarified in exasperation.

“I am funny!” I said a little too defensively. Her bemused expression said volumes.

“Er…” the waiter cautiously approached, a tan stallion wearing the top half of a tuxedo. What was it with this place and the total lack of pants? “C- I mean, how may I assist, sir? Madam? Uh…” he turned to me.

“Psychic,” I nodded sagely.

Spitfire sighed.

“A couple of hayburgers and some dandelion fries, please,” Spitfire requested flatly.

“Can I get a milkshake?” Soarin perked up.

“Do you have anything with cow in it…?” I leaned forward and balanced on my elbows, putting on a deliberately unsettling smile in hopes of making the poor guy’s day a little more interesting.

“C-c-cow?” the waiter’s voice went up a noticeable couple of octaves.

“Ignore him,” Spitfire deadpanned again. “He’ll have-”

“Anything without hay, grass, or flowers of any kind,” I dropped the menu in mild revulsion. “Have any carrots or something?”

“Hey!” Soarin smacked his hoof against the table delightedly as the waiter scarpered off. “That’s a good one, too!”

“What?” I blinked.

“Instead of Toothpick, you know?” he threw a look back to Spitfire, who did not seem to share in his enthusiasm. “We could call you-”

“Don’t say it!” I yelped, but far too late.

“Carrot Top!”

Something inside of me died, almost audibly.

My head hit the table with a groan and a clatter. I then let out a bloodcurdling shriek of agony, because maybe I really am an idiot that forgot about the concussion.

“I think I liked Toothpick better,” I heard Spitfire say, and I could have kissed her then and there.

“Yes, that sounds better!” I yanked my sore head up with a crick of my neck to look at her and smile. “Or, hey, here’s a crazy idea; why not just call me by my freaking name?”

“Let’s just finish lunch and get going, alright?” Spitfire grumbled as platters were served by the uneasy waiter, who trotted off when one or two brave customers began venturing back. “We’ve still got to find something to do with Phil if we can’t get him back to where he came from.”

I held up the shaved carrot placed before me and wriggled it in her direction with a sly cock of my eyebrows.

“Hey, wanna see what I can do with my incredible human tongue…?” I grinned folding it over to show her between my teeth. I expected her to tell me in a flat voice that it was a nice little trick and that I should shut up and eat already, but much to my surprise, Spitfire did something that actually surprised me.

She blushed.

“Dude,” Soarin rolled his eyes. “Nopony wants to see you lick yourself, save it for bath time.”

I was literally too stunned to do anything more than gawk at him as he stuffed his face with a steaming hayburger, ketchup dripping from between the buns.

“Do-do you think I’m – that I’m some kind of cat?” I stared. “I can’t do that, what do you take me for, a contortionist?”

“No, I took you for a psychic,” Soarin said with a straight face. There came a point when I was seriously confused as to whether or not he was a blithering idiot or some kind of evil mastermind. Nobody could have said that with a straight face, not a chance in hell.

Spitfire laughed again, and I found myself growing to dislike Soarin more and more. I grumbled quietly to myself as I munched on a few of the surprisingly flavorful carrots, the crunching filling my ears. I had no idea how Spitfire even planned on getting me home, if she was even able. And because of my stupid little stunt with Twilight Sparkle, I seriously doubted that she was going to be willing to help me out. I mentally kicked myself for that a few times, thinking hard. Aside from Twilight I didn’t really know many other ways that I might get back, or even find out how I got into this mess in the first place.

Like I said, I don’t know a whole lot, but from what I do know I doubted that this would be over quickly. I reminded myself to take things one step at a time, if only to keep from going nuts when it finally sank it that I might never get home. Never see my mom and dad again, never know what my friends thought when I vanished out of thin air. Never get to see Germany or places like that. That was a sobering thought.

And the lack of pants was making me feel weird again.

Spitfire waved a dandelion fry in my direction, getting my attention.

“What’s the matter now?” she frowned.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You just got this weird look on your face all of a sudden,” Spitfire shrugged.

“Nah,” I forced a grin. “Just thinking about pants.”

I clapped my hands together suddenly, surprising them both.

“Hey!” I said probably too eagerly, but I was already working on a new plan and didn’t want to give too much away. “Rarity!”

“What?” Soarin and Spitfire blinked simultaneously in confusion.

“She’s a dressmaker, I think,” I said offhandedly, tapping the side of my head. “She can make me some pants, for sure!”

“How do you know?” Spitfire swallowed, levelling her gaze at me as I touched my forehead with m finger.

“Uh,psychic. Duh.”

“You used your psychic powers to detect a tailor…” she said sternly and slowly. “Where, exactly?”

“Carousel Boutique,” I recited from memory with a hint of pride. I couldn’t even remember the name of the tree slash library thing at the moment, but I definitely remembered Carousel Boutique.

Partially from some images that I’ve seen that probably would lead to a really confusing and awkward conversation, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I know that place,” Spitfire frowned.

“You do?” Soarin blinked, finishing off his fries noisily. “Wha’ for?”

She turned her venomous gaze toward him for a moment.

“I have dinner wear, you know,” Spitfire seethed. “If I like an evening gown now and then, I’ll buy a damned evening gown!”

“Whoa, where did that come from?” I asked, because I’m stupid and my guard was down to prevent me from catching myself in time.

“Is it really anypony else’s business if I like to feel pretty now and then?” she glared a hole in me, and I shook my head nervously.

“Oh, uh… n-no, no, of course not…” I chuckled uneasily, pulling at an invisible collar to lessen the mysterious sweat that seemed to be overcoming me the longer she scowled at me. “So, hey, uh… I’m just gonna go there, ‘kay? ‘kay.”

“There’s a tailor’s literally across the street,” Spitfire pointed out a little shop across from us with a hanging sign outside labeled Bits & Bobs. “If you’re that desperate for clothes, I’m sure they can-”

“No, no,” I held up my hand quickly, putting my other to the side of my head. “My psychic powers are telling me that I absolutely must go to this ‘Rarity’, whom I have never heard of nor met in my entire life.”

“Whoa, no way!” Soarin grinned, eyeing me closely to watch the ‘magic phenomenon’. “Is it, like, a vision?”

“Yes!” I rolled my eyes back in my head as Spitfire quietly sighed again. “Ah ha, a vision is what I see! Very clearly, I must go at once!” I finished dramatically.

“The place next to us has a better selection of whatever you need, I’m sure,” Spitfire deadpanned for the billionth time that day. I was beginning to wonder if maybe that was her default expression. “There’s no need to walk all the way across town just for that.”

“It is determined by fate!” I threw out my arms dramatically as I stood, awing half of the pegasi that accompanied me. “The very universe has-”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Spitfire threw up her hooves in exasperation. “Fine, fine! Just quit feeding me this line of minotaur manure! Soarin!”

The pegasus cringed when she jerked her head toward him, and then back to me.

“You take Toothpick, I’m going to take care of the bill and grab some supplies while I’m in town,” she said with an air of authority, to which he rose and saluted.

“You got it,” he grinned eagerly. “What’ve you gotta get, anyway?”

“Painkillers,” she moaned. “You idiots are giving me a headache.”

Soarin and I left shortly afterwards, leading me one step closer to finishing my almost dastardly plan.

And if all went well, I might even be able to make my stay here a little more… enjoyable.

Unless I screwed it up, in which case, Spitfire is probably going to kick me to death.