Two weeks of constant labor passed easily. Even with my injured hand, it seemed that my cast was just like my clothes when I grew bigger. So I was at least helpful as a giant, my arm in a mega-cast, hauling new lumber under one arm like a boss. I could also haul one of the larger carts of stone or new thatch with one arm, like a giant rolley-suitcase.

Every pony had a nice word or many to give me, sometimes detailing extensively how much they owed me for saving the town, or keeping the monster from tearing apart their homes. It was actually starting to get a bit annoying, because everypony keeps congratulating and thanking me. A few have even started bowing to me, stopping work dead in the process until I wave or tell them to get back to working. I wonder how the hell Celestia and Luna deal with this... oh yeah, they live in a castle secluded from the majority of the populace. Lucky bitches.

Either way, Ponyville is looking much as it did before, and even that mare whose ribs were broken is back out of the hospital. Turns out, earth ponies regenerate over time as long as they keep physically stimulated by work. the explanation led to several blushes and stammered ‘that’s not what I meant!’ comments from Twilight when I pointed out what else is physically stimulating. I could practically feel Cadence trying to give me an air hoof-bump all the way from here.

That princess is the most innocent-looking, raunchiest mare I’ve met. I’m so glad there are ponies here who aren’t so goddamn conservative.

As I was lounging outside the library, when a storm-gray pegasus with a straw-colored mane lands in the grass outside the library. She looks around for a moment, and I see her eyes have wandered in two seperate directions, neither of them towards the library, which she begins walking towards confidently. A little head, lavender-gray with similar mane color as the pegasus, pokes out of one of the mare’s saddlebags, a pair of aviator goggles over the little pony’s face, while the pegasus wore a blue cap with a little winged golden thing on it.

I decide I should introduce myself to the pair. I stand up. “Heya, I haven’t seen you before. Who are you? And who’s your little carry-on there?”

The gray mare looks up at me, eyes both zooming forward to track me. The motion was a little hypnotic and fairly scary, with those two golden orbs sighting in on me. Then, the ‘creeped out’ feeling vanished as she smiled broadly, her eyes wandering again. “Howdy! I’m Ditzy, and I’m the mailmare. And this is Dinky, she’s my little muffin of joy!” Her smile is contagious, in a way even Pinkie’s isn’t. While Pinkie has a smile of joy and laughter, the smile of someone who told a funny joke and is basking in the laughter of friends, Ditzy has a smile that practically embodies happiness, of being utterly content with life.

The little filly saluted sharply, which was adorable, her face scrunched with seriousness.

“Well, hello there to you too. So, I take it you two might have heard of me?”

Ditzy nodded happily. “You stopped that monster. If I hadn’t been able to fly, he would’ve k- hurt my muffin.”

“Well, it seems like that’s what I’m here to do. I help ponies when nobody else can. Although I can be a bit violent myself, I admit.”

Ditzy looks up at me, one eye wandering past as if tracking a fly buzzing past my face. “Nah, you’re not evil. You’re a good guy! Oh, and I have some mail for you.” She turned her head towards Dinky, who disappeared into the saddlebag. I heard papers moving, and then saw her pop her head out, a bunch of letters bound together with string floating in a pale, flickering gold aura. I saw that Dinky’s face, under her goggles, was scrunched up again, this time in concentration.

Taking pity on the kid, who was apparently a unicorn, not a pegasus like her mother, I take the letters. They’re surprisingly heavy, so I pat the unicorn filly on the head, earning a huge, proud smile from her. Her mother looks proud, too.

“Alright, let’s see what I get.” I begin untying the heavy bulk and fan out some of the letters. “I’m willing to bet it’s fan mail. Heh, Rainbow’s gonna bug out when she sees this.” I grin, thinking about our little ego-war.

The first letter was from a child, as evinced by the crayon being used to write it. It was a thank you note, and said that he - the colt was named ‘Button Mash’, apparently - wished he would be as cool as me some day. Another was from Diamond Tiara, the annoying, mean filly from the school. Her letter said that she was willing to tolerate my presence, which I think is a step up. One from a pony named ‘Filthy Rich’, who said he was Diamond’s dad, said that I had apparently saved not only his store, but his daughter. The first earned me a lifetime membership to the gold club, and the second earned me a thousand bits personally from him. There was a metal card proclaiming me a Gold Member for life included, with fancy gold filigree on the edges. Heh, Gold Member.

The next card after that was from a mare, who started it with a lipstick mark, and basically asked me to marry her. Nope. The next was the same thing, but in fancier writing. Nope again. The one after that was another child’s letter, saying that if I ever came by her house, she’d give me her favorite fluffy bunny stuffy, because I was her hero. D’aaw. Another letter asking for marriage, this time in much more... explicit terms. Ugh, nope. One from a mare that was just being thankful, and offering to give me a ten-percent discount from her flower shop for life. Another was from the family I’d saved by swatting the demon away from them. They had enclosed an eight-hundred-bit bank note, and mentioned that they owned the local bank system, which ran as far as Canterlot and Manehattan, amongst other places.

Geez, and that was just the ones I opened at first, it was less than third of the total pile. I looked up at Ditzy and Dinky, who were still standing there, waiting for something. I reach into my pocket and retrieve the pouch of bits. I hold out the six I have left. “I’m not sure if this is enough, it’s all I’ve got.”

“Hmm? Oh, all of these were already paid for, not BOD. Bits on Delivery is for packages only. I’m just waiting in case you want to reply to any of them.” Ditzy’s smile doesn’t fade, and Dinky nods affirmatively.

“Well, I’ll have to keep reading them and decide which ones to reply to, if any. I’ll just write response letters and you can pick them up later. I don’t want to keep you two.”

“Oh, alright. And you’ll need to take them to the Postal Center, we can’t do mail pickups, I’m afraid. There’s only me, Dinky, and Rush Job. Poor colt can’t seem to hold a job, I’m hoping this works better than carpentry for him.”

“Well, thanks anyway. I’ll bring my responses by, and you can take it from there. Have a good day, and good luck.”

Ditzy nods, then takes flight, Dinky giving one last adorably serious salute on the way, before diving back into the saddlebag. Heh, I like those two. Anyways, back to reading the letters...

Eighteen more marriage proposals, six love letters, two lust letters, and one instance of a particularly proactive Canterlot Noble offering his daughter in marriage to, and I quote, “Guide your rising star with the might of the Rutabaga House, binding our future fortunes together.” those all got thrown away, except for the last. I think I’ll have it framed and laugh at it sometimes. What I find even more funny is the signatures from both the noble and his wife, and a note from the wife saying ‘I apologize for not being able to offer a more lovely future wife than my daughter, else I would.’ Bad parents, and I hope I can maybe help the girl find somewhere else to live.

I never would have imagined how many of these ponies wanted to be so romantic with me. Or merely jump my bones. Geez, it’s creepy.

However, some of the others were truly heartwarming. I have nearly two dozen letter from foals, some with their parent’s help, each one thanking me politely for saving them and their families. Some of them even offered me prized possessions, like stuffed animals, favored blankets, their coolest toys, etc. One letter from the orphanage - as in all the kids signed it, but the orphanage owner wrote it - said that me distracting the monster allowed the orphanage time to evacuate, as it would’ve been right along his path. I didn’t even know Ponyville had an orphanage, seeing as how few accidents and how much love for the children there is.

I even received, courtesy of the spa twins - there’s apparently also a high-end spa in Ponyville - a certificate for 50% off on whatever I wanted from them, because their parents are apparently in the retirement home. Cheerilee had written me a letter inviting me to come back anytime to be a guest of honor for any kind of presentation I’d like.

The list of total letters, many of them very personally kind, went on. One that caught my eye was an apology from a mare, named Berry Punch. It turns out she’s the mother of Noi, that little orange pony I’d worn as a hat back at my first introduction to the town. She was apologizing for being scared, of all things. If a random alien had decided to wear my child as a hat, I’d probably have freaked out as well, so I can understand. Anyways, her letter was an invitation to come to the bar she and her husband, Stoic Face, ran. It even included a little map of how to find the place.

Heh, sure. I make a point to visit them at some point. Though I wonder... what is the legal drinking age in Equestria? I’m not twenty-one yet... Eh, I suppose I could ask. “Hey Twilight, what’s the legal drinking age here?”

Twilight looks up from the book she was reading, titled, “BOOM! Population Growth Statistics”, and blinked a couple of times. “Huh? Oh, it’s sixteen if you’re an earth pony, nineteen otherwise.Why do you ask?”

“So... I’m not an Earth pony, so I guess that means it’s nineteen for me. Sweet, I’m legal!”

“I, uh, I suppose. Gryphons usually start drinking at age fourteen, and dragons are immune to the intoxicating effects of alcohol, so they can drink whenever. It’s a good medium for their baby formula, especially the harder alcohols. It’ll dissolve pearls, which are the best for young dragons.”

“Dude... that is probably the most hardcore baby formula I’ve ever heard of! Vodka and gemstones? Damn.” I give Spike a look. “Lucky bastard.”

“I’m not allowed near sulphurous liquids until I’m at least four decades old, don’t envy me.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I got an invite to a bar, so I’m gonna see what you ponies have in the way of hard drinks... I wonder what would happen if I got drunk...”

Twilight looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, if you get the chance, be sure to invite Rarity, she likes going bar hopping. It’d be a good chance to really get to know her.”

“As long as she doesn’t end up sounding like some of these letters, I’d say that’s great idea.” I pass one of the more lustful letters to Twilight. “I had no idea you ponies were so forward.”

Twilight curiously looks at the letter, her eyes flickering back and forth as she reads. Her cheeks go aflame as she reads the part explicitly stating where the writer wanted to have my face during the whole thing. It was written, by the way, by a stallion.

“How could somepony write something like that‽” She looks visibly revulsed. “Gross, gross, gross! Ugh, this this is why I never want to get married.”

Quoting a pony from before, I say, “Who said anything about marriage?”

Twilight’s facial expression was absolutely priceless, and neither Spike nor myself could stop laughing.

Next Chapter: Chapter 44 Estimated time remaining: 29 Hours, 34 Minutes