I have a plan.

Yes, you heard me right. For the first time since I, against my better judgement and common sense, went to Las Pegasus to fix Vinyl’s lock, I have a clear plan in my mind.

Actually, I also had a plan of getting the sword of Cedric Lulamoon out of the castle, but you remember how that ended. This plan, however, is different. It will totally work.

No, I’m not gonna tell you about it. You’ll see it when I do it, right? Telling you about it now would be redundant, not to mention that if I did, it’d probably backfire horribly. And I’m done making plans on the spot.

So, here I am, eating a quarray eel with my parents, Vinyl, Trixie, Inkie, Hexie, and Coco. I have nothing against some proteins, actually. Vinyl also had worse things in her mouth, but Coco apparently has a problem with eating something that was alive, even if it had teeth that could bite her arse off. Or maybe the stories Vinyl is telling are that nausea-inducing.

“... and then I said, ‘man, how come you have two?’ and he told me that it was some freaky genetic mutation and he bought me a drink and then I told him that I’ve never had anypony who’d have two and that it was probably the only occasion, so we went to the–”

“Reminds me of kangaroos,” my father says, wiping eel’s fat from his moustache. “They have three.”

“Male kangaroos?” Vinyl smiles widely. Or maybe she's just checking if her mouth could handle it.

“Nope, the sheilas,” my father replies.

Vinyl is still smiling, counting something on her hooves. “That’d make... lots of possibilities...”

My father smiles. “I still wonder why you didn’t marry my son...”

“I praise the princesses everyday because of that,” my mom adds. Honestly, I agree with her. My sister-in-law is a bitch, but at least she’s not a pony who got banned from the zoo after a rather interesting experiment involving magic and elephant’s private parts.

“Trixie also thinks it’s not something we should discuss while eating,” Trixie says, staring at something on her plate. Coco nods. Her face is a bit greenish.

“What is a kangaroo?” Inkie asks.

“Hmm...” My father scratches his head, staring at her like he used to stare at me when I got an F in Equestrian Literature. “Have you seen a zebra?”

“Yeah,” Inkie replies. “It was smashed by a rock, but I generally know how a zebra looks like.”

“So, a kangaroo is not similar to zebra at all,” my father says. “It can kick you like my daughter when she’s mad, though my daughter looks slightly better, I think.”

“Thanks, dad,” I mutter. “Somepony else has a way to embarrass me further?”

Vinyl smiles widely. “How about that one time when you almost died and lost control over your–”

“That was a rhetorical question, cocklicker...” I reply, glaring at Vinyl.

“Minuette!” My mother exclaims. “Stop speaking like a zhlub!”

“Yeah,” Vinyl leans over the table to pat my mother’s back. “You tell her, mommy...”

“Mom, I’m twenty eight...” I say, groaning. “Also, Vinyl is–”

“An idiot, nafka, and retarded shiksa, yes,” my mother says, pushing Vinyl back on her seat with her magic. “But it doesn’t mean that you have to be like her. Why don’t you stay with nice ponies, like Beatrix or that little girl here.” She looks at Inkie, who blushes. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Incredentia Minerva Pie,” Inkie replies. “But you can call me Inkie.”

“By the way,” my father says, looking at Trixie who probably wonders whether to scold my mother for calling her “Beatrix” or keep a low profile. “Beatrix totally looks like that cunt who enslaved the whole town last year...”

“That was Tri... my twin sister!” Trixie exclaims, almost choking on her food. “She’s slightly, you know...”

“Retarded,” Vinyl prompts.

“So are you,” my mother deadpans and turns to Hexie. “At least this one here looks intelligent... Maybe because she doesn’t speak at all.”

Hexie shrugs. We ran out of “fuel” long time ago, so the only way to talk to her is to suddenly start speaking Pferdisch, Ponish, or Prench. “Nic nie verstehen,” she says. “Totalnie.”

My mother raises her eyebrows. “Trzeba było tak od razu...”

To everypony’s surprise, they start talking quickly in Ponish and I recall slowly that I have an aunt in Ponyland. Yay. Seems that I’m the only one linguistically retarded in the family. I mean, I know Pferdisch a bit and the dialect of kangaroos (my father’s fault. Also, it's not that hard – one just have to have a powerful kick), but, as you can see, my own mother tops me in that matter.

“I think I’ll go home,” I say. “Girls...”

“Hexie will stay with us,” my mother says. “And you said that your friend Grace Manewitz will come here too, right?”

“Right,” I say, glad that I’ll only have to find a way to house Vinyl, Trixie, Inkie, and Coco in my house. Vinyl on the floor, Trixie on the couch, Inkie and Coco on something that can be cleaned easily...

We walk out of the house and see Grace walking towards us. “Hello,” she says. “Octavia’s going to Canterlot, Photo’s going to Manehattan, Aryanne will sleep in her airship. I’m done.”

“Good,” I say, staring at the evening sky. “There should be some eel left. My mother found a common language with Hexie, so she stays with you. You’ll probably be sleeping in my old room, so you’d better not look under the bed. And remember what I told you about the thin walls.”

“Of course,” Grace says.

“By the way,” I mutter. “What do you mean by ‘Aryanne will sleep in her airship’? Did she pulled it out of the lake?”

“One of the ponies from the town helped her,” Grace replies.

“Pink, blonde mane, cherries on her flank, slightly insane?” I ask. “Aryanne won’t recognise her airship after she pimps it out...”

“That’s her problem, not mine.” Grace shrugs. “Gonna go. I heard something about the eel...”

We say goodbye to her and walk through Ponyville. It’s quite dark and most of the ponies are in their houses. I wonder if I wasn’t evicted yet. But hell, I have money, so I can–

“Hey, maybe we’ll visit a pub?” Vinyl asks, interrupting my train of thoughts.

“No,” I say. “We have to wake up early tomorrow.”

“Is that a part of the plan?”

“Yes.”

“You should tell us more about the plan,” Trixie says. “After all, Trixie is supposed to go to you to Las Pegasus, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll go to those guys while Vinyl and–”

“Inkie! It’s you!”

“Oh crap...” I mutter.

“Inkie!” Pinkie Pie shouts, tackling her sister. “My Pinkie Sense was just telling me that one of my sisters is in the town, but I thought it was impossible, since Maud was going to–” She is interrupted when Inkie pins her to the ground.

“Don’t forget that you have three sisters,” Inkie says.

“You got stronger.” Pinkie nods, apparently not caring about the fact that Inkie is strangling her.

“I’m training.” Inkie smiles. “You should train more too...” Before she can tell something more, Pinkie slides from under her and throws her on the ground.

“I prefer dexterity over blunt force,” Pinkie says, smiling.

“Dexterity? Body mass, I think...” Inkie mutters.

Pinkie lets her go and helps her up. “So, will you stay with me at the Sugarcube Corner tonight?” she asks.

“Sure,” Inkie says. “But my marefriend...”

“You have a marefriend?” Pinkie exclaims, waving her hooves. “Cool! I always knew you were into fillies! Who is the lucky one?”

Inkie raises her eyebrows. “Was I... that obvious?”

Vinyl chuckles. “Girl, your closet was as transparent as contents of my head...”

“Shit...” Inkie mutters to my shock. “Anyway... Pinkie, meet Coco.”

“Oh! You’re that girl who works for Rarity!” Pinkie exclaims, hugging Coco. “That calls for a party! We should get the girls and–”

“A party?” Vinyl asks. “May I join you?”

“You? Always,” Pinkie says. “Just don’t bring that white powder again...”

Before I can protest, they walk away, leaving me with Trixie. Just great. I smack my forehead and hiss in pain – before I went to my parents, I visited the hospital to have it stitched. It went without complications, apart from an argument with a runty nurse. I’d totally win with her, but then I saw that she’d apparently stuck a thermometer in Rarity’s arse. Seeing that, I ran away to the trauma ward. I’m not Vinyl, putting random stuff in my rectum doesn’t give me a ladyboner.

Okay, maybe a bit.

Anyway, my forehead is now stitched and I have to deal with Trixie being in my house. We walk to it and I open the door, inviting her inside.

The room is a bit dusty, but still, I’m home. Alive. Not insane. With all legs still in their places. Not pregnant.

Trixie winces looking at it, but quickly sits on the couch, puts the sword of Cedric Lulamoon on the table and rests her hooves on it.

“Hey!” I exclaim. “Wash your hooves first!”

“Trixie is tired,” Trixie replies. “Do we have something to eat?”

“You just ate,” I say.

Trixie sighs and pats her flank. “A good figure needs maintaining,” she replies. “And Trixie prefers to eat whenever there’s an occasion. Who knows when she’ll get some food again...”

“Tonight you’ll dine in Tartarus if you piss me off...” I mutter. “And get your hooves off my table. Two stallions sandwiched me on it.” It’s not exactly true. My ex and his brother made me a sandwich once and put it on this table. But Trixie doesn’t have to know.

Trixie immediately takes her hooves off the table. “How about that couch?” she asks. “Trixie would rather sleep in bed. Her back is killing her...”

“I never did anything on the couch,” I reply. “But the bed... You could probably make a PhD in biology examining everything that was ever spilled on the mattress...” It’s mostly my drinks and sometimes certain bodily fluids (if I was too lazy to get the tissues), but again, Trixie doesn’t have to know.

“Okay, Trixie will get the couch,” she mutters. “How about the shower?”

“Oh, shower is safe,” I reply, mainly because I don’t want her to stink. After all, she doesn’t have to know what Vinyl did to my shower. “It’s upstairs, by the way.”

“Great,” Trixie says, darting upstairs.

“Watch out for my rollerskates,” I mutter.

“Aargh!”

“You okay, Trixie?” I ask, walking to the stairs.

“Yeah. I levitated myself.” Trixie replies. “It slowed down the fall a bit.”

“Slowed down?” I ask. “Most of the ponies are able to levitate themselves at least for a few seconds.”

“Trixie was eating a bit too much recently...”

Of course. I get some pillow and blanket for Trixie while she takes a shower, then I shower too and go to my bedroom. Good, old bed. Good, old collection of porn under it. I’d make some use of it, but right now I’m too tired. I look out of the window to see what time it is on the clock on the tower and wind up my alarm clock according to it. Then I lie in my bed and fall asleep.

Suddenly, I’m woken up by a scream. I open my eyes and look at the alarm clock. 3 AM. I hear another scream and sound of a magic beam firing. What the hell is Trixie doing there?

I walk out of my room and trot downstairs. Trixie is not on the couch, but when I look around, I see that the light in the kitchen is on. I grab the Cedric Lulamoon’s sword from the table and run there.

Trixie is sitting on the floor in front of the fridge. There some spider-like creature lying on the floor between them, charred and apparently dead. I poke it with the sword, but it doesn’t move.

“What the hay is that?” I ask.

“Trixie doesn’t know,” Trixie replies. “Trixie went to get a late snack and it was in the fridge...”

Just great. There’s an alien civilisation in my fridge. Sometimes I just love this town. I open the fridge and look inside. There’s nothing strange in here, except of the fact that anything that contained hay disappeared. There are still eggs left, but they are here since I’ve left to Las Pegasus. I guess we’ll eat something on the train.

“Okay, since you’re done playing the monster slayer, I’m going back to sleep,” I say, levitating the Fridge Horror from the floor and throwing it out of the window.

I sleep for the rest of the night without any disturbances. In the morning, I walk out of the house to check if everything is ready. Trixie is still sleeping, but I don’t wake her up. We still have some time before our train arrives.

My first destination is Berry Punch’s house. It used to be closer to mine, but now, after a freaky incident involving a love potion, it’s near the Carousel Boutique, so it takes me a while to get there.

I push the door, but it’s locked. For a while I think about getting my tools and opening it, but then I remember that I’m in Ponyville, not in Prance or any other place where I’m known as a burglar. Instead, I choose a polite option and knock on the door.

“Who’s there?” I hear a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to Berry. “If you’re one of my mom’s drinking buddies, you will be shot.”

For a while I wonder if I count as Berry’s drinking buddy. Let’s hope not. “It’s me, Ruby!” I exclaim. “Auntie Minuette.”

The door opens. Ruby is levitating a BB gun I gave her for her birthday. “Hello,” she says. “Mom ain’t home.”

“First off, don’t aim at me if you don’t want to shoot me,” I say, pushing the gun to the side. “Second thing, it’s ‘mom isn’t home'. Third thing, did you train like I told you?”

“I couldn’t, since Dinky shot herself in the ass,” Ruby replies. “Mom took my pellets away.”

“She shot herself in the ass?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “How is that even possible?”

“Don’t ask me, it’s Dinky.” Ruby sighs. “Do you know what she did with a potato yesterday? Sparkler had to take her to the hospital.”

I can kinda imagine. From what I know about Dinky, she’s kinda like Vinyl, except Vinyl already did the most stupid things in her life and she doesn’t have to prove anything.

“Anyway, where’s Berry?” I ask.

“She’s with auntie Cherry,” Ruby replies. “And auntie Cherry is in her workshop. She dragged that airship there and is now holding the owner hostage or something.”

“What?” To think about it, Cherry Berry would be capable of doing that. But on the other hoof, Aryanne doesn’t seem like somepony who’d let anyone take them without a fight. “I’d better go to them,” I say. “Come to me later, we’ll discuss philosophy while shooting empty cans, okay?”

“Sure,” Ruby says.

While I’m walking away, I wonder if I’ll be able to keep the promise. After all, I’m going to meet the mafia boss whose cousin already tried to kill me. He is dumb, of course, but still he has a lot of armed sidekicks who probably didn’t forget that I bit off an ear of one of them, fried the balls of a few more, and caused one of them to get hit by a carriage. I really hope my plan works, or else they’ll send my head back to Ponyville in a cardboard box.

As I approach Cherry’s workshop, I can hear loud voices coming from the inside. I can also see the damaged airship standing next to it – without hydrogen, with one engine gondola missing and the other cut to ribbons by debris, it looks rather pathetic. Also, there are some parts scattered around, which look like elements taken from the cockpit. The hatch in the front, hiding a howitzer, is open, with some colourful wires protruding from it.

The door of Cherry’s house opens and I see Berry Punch walking towards me. “Hello,” she says. “How’s your plan?”

“Good, I think,” I reply. “Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure she understood,” Berry replies. “She’s too busy trying to get as much money from that blonde genetic experiment as she can.” She leans closer to me. “I checked. It’s big enough.”

“Great,” I say. “I’ll talk to Cherry.” I smile at Berry reassuringly and walk inside of Cherry’s workshop.

“... this flying thingy needs reworking, if you wanna use it in a battle, Kendra, I’m telling you.” Cherry Berry pats Aryanne’s back.

“I’m Aryanne.” Aryanne mutters, rolling her eyes. Good luck with that one. Cherry is incapable of remembering anypony’s name, and she certainly doesn’t listen to anything that is not connected to “flying thingies”.

“Anyway, Eva, who thought that unshielded fuel pipes were a good idea?” Cherry Berry shakes her head. “One shoot and kaboom, you’re a million teeny tiny pieces of tissue falling to the ground like a red, salty rain. I’ll fix that for you. And forget about those shitty Griffonian engines, I’ll make them much better, just give me this one you’ve got and I’ll make it fly faster than sound.”

“Is zat safe?” Aryanne asks.

“I have no idea!” Cherry Berry shrugs. “And then, Gertrude, we’ll paint the whole thing red.”

“Red?” Aryanne’s eye twitches. “Why?”

“The red ones go faster!” Cherry Berry exclaims.

I clear my throat. Cherry Berry looks at me. “Aquafresh!” she exclaims. Long time no see! Do you know that some batty bastard stole my helicopter? I went to him and tried to beat the crap out of him. I got the helicopter back, but it was all bent and had some bat pony all over it.”

I smile sheepishly. “And how is your new helicopter? Ready to fly?”

“Totally,” Cherry replies. “With all the thingies I got, it’s perfectly flyable.” She smiles a bit too wide for my liking and hugs Aryanne, who shudders and nearly passes out. “And with the money I get from my little friend Helga, I’ll soon build the second one!”

“Why is she doing zat?” Aryanne asks. “Und why is she speaking like she’s völlig bekloppt?”

“It’s ze sound of progress, mein friend,” I reply. Somehow, her accent rubs off on me.

“I don’t want zat progress...” Aryanne whispers.

Cherry Berry seems to be blind to her Weltschmerz. “I need to get some fabric. Lots of fabric.” She freezes for a moment, listening to something outside and runs from the workshop. We follow her, in case she grabs an axe and goes on a murderous rampage around Ponyville.

I sometimes wonder if the titanium plate in Cherry’s skull somehow affects her hearing. She somehow heard that Rarity is walking by the workshop, accompanied by some tall, white unicorn. I think she’s a model or something.

“Hey, you!” Cherry exclaims, running to Rarity. She bumps into the taller unicorn and points to the airship. “See this big, dick-shaped, blowy-balloon-thingy? Need fabric. Lots of fabric. Enough to make a second thing like that. Waterproof, wind-resistant, fireproof, idiotproof, everything-proof. Red. Like, now.”

Rarity helps her companion up, whispering something that sounds like, “I’m sorry, it’s a village idiot.” Then, she looks at the airship and her eyes start to shine. Perhaps she’s counting how much the fabric will cost.

“Aryanne, run!” I exclaim, only to see that Aryanne is not next to me. I look around and see her standing next to Rarity’s companion.

“Fleur Dis Lee!” Aryanne exclaims. “I am your biggest fan!”

"Qui est cette pouliche et pourquoi essaye-t-elle de me lécher les sabots?" Fleur asks.

“I’m a model too,” Aryanne replies. “And I sink white unicorns are ze master race. I’m a unicorn too. At heart.”

Fleur backpedals slowly, staring at Rarity who is busy calculating the amount of fabric needed. I think I’ll better go. I have a train to catch.

I look at the view behind the window, slowly changing from the fields and meadows surrounding Ponyville to much rougher, deserted landscape. Luckily, our compartment is empty, so we don’t have to explain why one of us has something that looks like a sword wrapped in gift paper in her saddlebags. And that doesn’t even cover the rest of my luggage.

“Do you think they will show up in time?” Trixie asks.

“I’m asking myself the same question, actually,” I reply, realising suddenly that I’m playing idly with a shotgun cartridge that slipped from my saddlebags. I hide it back there. The conductor could’ve gotten suspicious. “On one hoof, Grace is with them. On the other, our life is in the hooves of an insane inventor, adult model with questionable political views, a town drunk, two shy lesbians, and Vinyl. What can possibly go wrong?”

Trixie looks at me, wide-eyed. “Trixie is going to write her last will.”

“May I ask you who’ll be lucky enough to inherit your stuff?” I ask. Not that I’m very interested in that. The road to Las Pegasus is simply that long.

“Trixie will bequeath all her debts to Twilight Sparkle.”

“You have no debts,” I say. “One-third of all the money hidden in that old mine is yours.”

“Then Trixie will give them to orphans,” Trixie replies. “And then she’ll give her cape and hat to Twilight Sparkle. How about you?”

I shrug. “No idea. Guess I’d share it between Inkie and Ruby Pinch. Kids need to have some fun.”

“Ruby Pinch?”

“Berry’s daughter. Annoying little brat, but she’s gonna grow up to be like–”

“You?” Trixie asks. “No way. There’s no way somepony can be a worse vagina than you. Except Vinyl, but she’s annoying in a completely different way.”

I give her a nasty look. “Then why did you even agreed to work with her? When I got there, you were already in her toilet.”

“Trixie needed money.” Trixie smiles sheepishly.

“Trixie should’ve known that stealing is bad and stealing money from mafia is super bad,” I say. “Since you can end up in a griffonian restaurant. In the stew.”

“Trixie knows...” She sighs. “Trixie just wanted to settle down...”

“... get a husband, build a house, give birth to triplets referring to themselves in third person?” I ask.

“No. Trixie thought about some business. A theatre or a casino...”

Before I can imagine Trixie as a casino owner, the door to the compartment opens and two stallions walk in. They’re twins, pale yellow guys with red manes. One of them has a badass moustache, the other doesn’t.

“Hello, dear ladies,” the one with the moustache says. “May we propose you buying something?”

“We have almost everything,” the other one says, levitating a wire hanger. “May I interest you with–”

“I’m not pregnant,” I say. “Nor is my friend. She just looks like that.”

“Blow me,” Trixie mutters through gritted teeth.

“A propos,” the moustache guy says. “We have fans. Ideal for the desert this train will be riding through.”

“No, thanks,” I say. “Do you have a delay-action fuse?”

“Fifty bits,” the guy without the moustache says.

“Forty,” I say. Seeing that they open their mouths, I add, “I’ll give you fifty if you have some 12 gauge shotgun cartridges.” I still have some, but they are Vinyl’s and I don’t trust them.

“That’s sixty bits per box!” the one with the moustache protests.

“Forty five,” I reply. You know, I learned to bargain from my mother. “Forty for the fuse; that makes eighty five. Since I buy two things, I’ll pay you seventy five.”

“That’s–”

“Seventy five and I won’t blow this train up, okay?” I mutter.

“Okay,” the brother without moustache says, levitating the cartridges and the fuse. “If you need something, ask for Flim and Flam.” They take the money and retreat quickly.

“Which of them was Flim and which was Flam?” Trixie asks.

“Who knows. Go and ask them, if you really need to.”

“Do you think they’ll tell someone that you threatened to blow up the train?” Trixie looks into the corridor.

“First they’d have to tell them that they’re walking around selling ammunition and bomb parts,” I reply, watching the cartridge I got from them. It’s in a bit better state than those I got with Vinyl’s shotgun. Then I stare at the fuse. It’s one of those truly evil models that explode five seconds before the clock goes to zero. Batteries not included.

“So, what will you do if we survive?” Trixie asks. “With the money, I mean?”

“Spend everything on vodka and bi–” I think for a while. “Or maybe, invest it in Cherry’s inventions. Then, I’ll get ten times more money and spend it on vodka and bitches.”

“How about gambling?” Trixie asks. “I hope you’ll be a frequent guest in Trixie’s casino...”

“Sure...” I mutter. Trixie doesn’t have to know that, since I’m an engineer, numbers are basically my life. Few days of me playing blackjack in her casino and she’d be homeless again. Unless, of course, she hired a bunch of Diamond Dogs, who’d beat the crap out of counting guys.

“If we survive, Trixie’s gonna go to the casino,” Trixie says. “She’ll get drunk and lose some bits...”

“I’m not sure if they’ll let us inside any casino,” I reply. “Not after the stunt we’re about to pull off.”

Somepony knocks at the door. Maybe those two idiots again? Or maybe guards? I stuff the cartridges into my saddlebags and stand up to open the door. On a second thought, I discreetly levitate the shotgun out of the saddlebags. The look Trixie is giving me tells me that I’m not that discreet.

I open the door to our compartment. Behind them, there is a pale yellow, ginger-maned filly scout. She takes a deep breath and says, “Goodmorningma’amdoyouwanttobuycookiesthreebitsforaboxitsfora–” She pauses to take another breath and notices the shotgun I’m trying to hide behind my back rather unsuccessfully.

I look at Trixie, who is sweating and smiling sheepishly at the filly scout who is standing in front of us like a deer in the headlights of an incoming freight train.

“How much fat do they have?” Trixie asks.

“No cholesterol,” the filly scout replies. At least she started to speak slower, though it may have something to do with hyperventilation. “Except Trios, which have fifteen grams and Toffee-tastic, which have ten. But Trios are gluten-free...”

“Shi... That is, Trixie means, oh bother,” Trixie says. “Two boxes of Toffee-tastic, then.”

“Two boxes of peanut butter patties,” I say and give the poor filly scout thirty bits. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” the filly scout whispers, gives us the cookies and runs away.

I hide the shotgun in my saddlebags, sit in my seat, and open the box with cookies. Now with less trans fats, huh? I’m gonna be healthy.

“Wait,” Trixie says, opening her cookies and levitating two into her mouth. “You bargained with those two guys and then gave a filly thirty bits for cookies worth twelve?”

I levitate a cookie and take a bite. “I gather good karma,” I reply. “Also, it was extra money for her bravery. She didn’t left the floor mess after seeing the shotgun.”

“You’re telling Trixie that because you don’t want Trixie to eat all the cookies, don’t you?” Trixie sighs.

“Kinda.” I reply. We stop on some station in the middle of the desert. Some old lady walks into our carriage and puts a cat on my knees. She has two other cats in a basket next to her.

“Umm... Good morning!” Trixie exclaims, but the granny doesn’t seem to acknowledge her existence. She opens the basket with her five cats and cooes at them.

“Trixie is allergic to cats,” Trixie mutters.

“You’re Trixie?” the granny asks me and takes her cat from me. It joins the other ten cats playing on the floor.

“She’s Trixie,” I reply. “I’m not allergic to cats.”

“Then why did she–”

“It’s the question of the century,” I say, watching fifteen cats apparently trying to fuck each other. Trixie looks at her cookies unsurely, her face a bit green.

The old mare doesn’t reply, too busy trying to make her twenty cats stop following the call of nature. Trixie sighs and eats a cookie anyway.

“So, why are you going to Las Pegasus?” I ask when the cats are back in the basket. There are, like, thirty of them there, even though I feel it’s not scientifically possible. The cats, however, have probably never heard of science.

“I got my pension,” the mare replies. “I’m going to have some fun.”

“And what about those cats?” Trixie asks and coughs.

“Well, I usually leave them with my husband, but last time he died and they ate him,” the old mare says. “But I’m still collecting his pension, so it’s okay.”

“Trixie doesn’t feel well,” Trixie mutters, staring at the cats, who stare back at her. Some of them are licking their lips.

“I was joking.” The mare laughs. “He got hit by a train fifty years ago.”

“That must’ve been painful,” Trixie mutters.

“I don’t think so. It was quick,” the mare replies, stroking one of her cats. “Not to mention that I inherited his money.”

“And what did you do with them?” Trixie asks before I can give her a warning look. If that mare learns that we have money, we may “accidentally” get hit by a train.

“I spent everything on cats,” the mare replies. “Hey, it seems that we’re close to Las Pegasus.”

Twenty minutes later, the train stops on the large railway station. Like all the stations, it looks awful, but at least has toilets. We grab our luggage and walk to one of them. We pay two bits each for the right to do anything we want there and we lock ourselves in a stall.

“Okay,” I say, levitating the piece of C4 I got from the bomb in the airship. I attach the fuse to it. “Stage one: we get some batteries for that, you cast the invisibility spell–”

“Unnoticeability spell,” Trixie mutters. “You’re still visible, just not noticeable.”

“Nevermind,” I say. “You’ll take it for a walk to della Morte’s safe and hide it somewhere there. I’ll wait for you and then we’ll go and give the sword to him.”

“Sure,” Trixie replies. “Trixie will be right back.”

“Take care,” I say. I walk out of the stall. Trixie stays inside.

“What?” she asks. “Trixie needs to, umm... you know...” She locks the door.

Oh yeah. If it was a movie, we’d visit a toilet only to buy drugs, sell drugs, build a bomb, fight a troll, or patch ourselves up after fighting ten thousand ninjas. But since it’s life, we sometimes have to use the toilet in a way it’s supposed to be used.

Speaking of which, I’ll visit the stall too. I paid two bits, I don’t want to waste them.

I hate waiting.

I take a sip of my coffee and look around the small bar opposite of Bacio della Morte’s skyscraper. Trixie is still not back; she’d put a spell on herself and disappeared, leaving me in that crappy place, drinking crappy coffee and wondering if everything in the plan goes smoothly. If not, we’re already–

“Right behind you.”

I shudder, barely stopping myself from punching the air behind me. “Trixie!” I hiss. “Don’t sneak on me like you were going to stab me!”

“Okay,” Trixie mutters. “Can you go out of here? Trixie can’t drop the spell without creeping out the patrons.”

“Oh, come on,” I whisper. “Make a flash like with teleportation...”

The flash nearly blinds me, but I can see Trixie appearing. Well, “appearing” is not the best word. Once she’s visible, I realise that she was behind me all the time, blending with the background. She sits at the table.

“So, how was it?” I ask. “Did you plant it in the safe?”

“Better,” Trixie replies. “They have a meth lab there. They’ll never find it there.”

“Great,” I say. “Time for phase two...”

I push the door of the skyscraper open with my magic and walk to the receptionist’s desk. My hoofsteps echo through the corridor. Trixie is walking behind me. She levitates the sword out of her saddlebags and unwraps it.

“Lead us to your boss,” I say to the receptionists a pink, bubblegum-chewing mare, who looks at the sword raising her eyebrows.

“Do it swiftly, and we shall not behead thee,” Trixie adds.

I give her a nasty look. “What did I tell you about possessing your descendants, old fart?”

“Forgive me, fair maiden,” Trixie replies. “I shall now leave madame Beatrix alone.” Trixie blinks. “What the hell just happened?” she asks.

The receptionists pushes some red button on her desks. “There are two freaks here who wants to get to Mr. della Morte,” she says. “I’d kick them out, but they have a really big fucking sword and I’m not gonna risk my life for two bits per hour.”

“Let them in,” someone says from the speaker. In the background, I can hear the sound of the guns being loaded. So much for a friendly exchange.

“May I get the microphone?” I ask.

“Soon you’ll talk to Mr. della Morte personally,” the receptionists replies.

“Or I’ll tell Trixie to skin you...” I mutter. Trixie waves her sword and almost cuts off her own tail.

“Okay,” the receptionist replies and gives me the microphone.

“Listen, mate,” I say. “We’re coming to you unarmed. We’ll give you the sword and fuck off once and for all. Tell your colts with guns that we don’t wanna see them or else things will get nasty.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bacio della Morte replies. “Go to the elevator.”

We walk to the elevator. The door close behind us and we ride up. Trixie lifts the sword while I grab the shotgun from my saddlebags and load it. I hope I’m gonna send a few guys to Tartarus before they change us into oatmeal.

The elevator stops and the door opens. Nopony shoots at us, so we walk out of it. There’s a desk in the middle of the room and I feel that we’re standing on the very expensive carpet. Behind the desk there’s a really big window, just like I thought. I can see the back of the armchair. Fucking villain antics.

“Why so nervous?” Bacio della Morte asks, turning with his armchair to face us. “We’re here to make a deal, right?”

“Yeah.” I lower the shotgun. “We’ll leave you the sword and fuck off, just like I said. Trixie?”

Trixie walks to the desk and puts the sword on it. She’s about to turn back and go to the elevator, when we hear the sound of at least twenty guns being raised.

“You didn’t think I’d let you go after my cousin got arrested, did you?” Bacio della Morte asks. Twenty mooks surround us slowly.

“You’ll regret shooting us,” I say.

“Why?”

“Umm... because your guys will shoot each other while shooting us?” Trixie raises her eyebrows.

“Shut up, your Vinyl is showing,” I say. “Listen, mate, remember that piece of C4 your cousin left in the airship? It’s now in your precious meth lab.”

“So?” Bacio della Morte asks. Geez, this guy is a really slow thinker.

“It’s fully armed,” I reply. “We either leave unharmed, or your meth lab will be all over the place, for every cop to see.”

“Clever.” Bacio nods. “But still, we can find it before killing you.”

“That’s not what gentlecolts do,” I say.

“Do I look like a gentlecolt to you?”

“Well, judging by the fact that you have a meth lab, lots of money from uncertain sources, your cousin sent a bunch of cunts to blow us up, and you don’t want to leave us alone even though we brought this ancient piece of junk to you, I must admit that you’re a common arsehole with manners and taste of a pimp from some shithole in the middle of the desert, not a gentlecolt. Oh, and you fucked Vinyl, which means that you don’t really care about quality...”

“How can you know that?” Bacio della Morte asks, raising his eyebrows. His mooks look at him and shrug. Their expressions cause everyone whose IQ is higher than their horseshoe size to pity them.

“My brother told me,” I reply. I hear a familiar noise in the background. I only need to buy more time...

“How does he know?” Bacio asks.

“He was there before you,” I reply. “Just like half of the stallions in Equestria. And many mares. Though, to think about it, I’m surprised that Vinyl wanted you. Her standards are usually higher.”

“Can we shoot them, sir?” one of the mooks asks.

“Not yet,” Bacio della Morte replies. “How dare you? We loved each other...”

“If she loved you, she wouldn’t ask Trixie and me to help her steal your money,” I say, smiling and waving my shotgun.

Trixie backpedals slightly. “Trixie didn’t know what she was getting herself into...” she mutters.

“Bullshit!” I exclaim. All the guns are aiming at me, but I’m laughing because I hear the sound of the helicopter rotor behind the window. It gets louder and louder. Soon, the aircraft shows up.

It’s the biggest helicopter Cherry built so far. It looks even more menacing with the autocannon and the howitzer from Aryanne’s airship duct-taped to it. Cherry herself is piloting it. Aryanne is sitting behind the howitzer, megaphone in her hooves. Good. Her accent is more menacing.

I don’t get, however, why did they gave Vinyl the autocannon. This idiot can shoot everypony in the room, Trixie and me included. Maybe, unlike Inkie, Hexie, Grace, Berry Punch, Coco, and Octavia, she was unable to pedal.

“Okay, fokkers,” Aryanne says to the megaphone. “Now, you vill leave Minuette and Trixie alone, drop your veapons, and lie dovn on ze floor or ve vill change zis room into ze Schlachthof. Verstehen?”

“I don’t verstehen,” Bacio della Morte says.

“If anypony in this room shoots, they’ll shoot too,” I reply. “And they can bring the whole building down, you know.”

I don’t tell him that it’s just a theory. If they fired a howitzer, the recoil would probably tear the duct tape and cause the weapon to make a really big, Aryanne-shaped hole in the helicopter.

“So, what do you want?” Bacio asks me.

“I want you to give up,” I reply. “The guards will probably notice this whole shitstorm soon. And frankly, we don’t trust a shit like you enough to leave you free.”

“They have no proof,” Bacio says. “I’m a humble casino owner.”

“Your guys hold us at a gunpoint, there’s a stolen sword in this room, and Trixie planted a bomb in your meth lab,” I say. “They’ll find something.”

“My lawyers–”

Vinyl has enough. She grabs the megaphone from Aryanne. “Listen, jackass!” she yells, almost breaking the window with the raw volume of her voice. “You’re the worst piece of manure I have ever gotten fucked by. Including an actual piece of manure that cost me a month in the hospital. And you weren’t even that good. Hell, even that cunt that works at the reception desk for two bits per hour was better than you. She ate me so hard that her gum stuck inside of–”

“Vinyl!” Grace exclaims.

“Okay, okay, I’m shutting up,” Vinyl mutters.

“As you can see, mate, you have no other choice,” I say. “So, are you gonna give up, or will we wait for the guards.”

Bacio della Morte shakes his head. “I can always take you with me...” he says. Some of his henchponies are still aiming at us, while the rest aims at the helicopter.

“Umm... guys?” Trixie mutters. “M-maybe we’ll negotiate? You probably don’t want to die for him and this is what will happen if anypony here pulls the trigger.”

“We’re his family,” one of the mooks says. “A family always stays together.”

“Crap,” Trixie mutters under her breath. “Trixie’s not joking. Our friends are total nutjobs and they’ll not hesitate to massacre everypony...”

Vinyl nods and aims her autocannon exactly at her ex’s head. I wonder if she knows that it was designed to shoot at big targets, such as other airships. As such, its sights are rather rudimentary.

“And who’s fucked now?” Bacio della Morte asks and takes the sword from the desk. When he touches it, his body twitches as if he was electroshocked. He blinks and raises the sword.

“Don’t get us killed, old fart...” I whisper, closing my eyes. Soon, however, I open them.

“Gentlecolts!” Bacio della Morte exclaims, waving the sword and looking at his guards. “Lower thy weapons. We shall find a peaceful solution to this Gordian knot!”

“So, are we giving up, boss?” one of the ponies asks.

“Nay!” Bacio shouts. “We are just going to retreat and think of a new battle plan! But we shall come back stronger and defeat those filthy peasants!”

Some of the thugs lower their guns. Some of them, however, still aim at us. It’s kinda uncomfortable, especially since Trixie uses me as a pony shield. What a coward.

“I don’t think so, boss,” the most stubborn thug mutters. “We can just shoot all of them. We have, like...” For a moment he counts something. “Many more guns.”

Oh, come on! If this guy had a child with Vinyl, their kid would be so dumb it’d need headphones with “inhale, exhale” recorded on the tape, or else it’d forget to breathe.

Bacio della Morte (or maybe Cedric Lulamoon?) probably thinks the same. He swings his sword so the blade stops an inch from the thug’s neck. “Those who oppose their commander shall be beheaded!” he exclaims.

The thug drops his weapon immediately. Bacio turns to the window, smiling triumphantly.

“What’s going on?” Trixie whispers to me.

“Your ancestor possessed Bacio and saved our sorry flanks,” I reply. “But it’ll only last till he puts the sword back.”

“Trixie thinks we’d better go away,” Trixie mutters.

We’re about to go back to the elevator, when I hear the sound of flapping wings. Like, a lot of wings.

“DROP YOUR WEAPONS!” someone yells through the megaphone. “MY NAME IS FLITTER, A CAPTAIN OF THE EQUESTRIAN ARMY AND I’M HERE TO ARREST YOU ALL!”

Several pegasi in full body armours break the window and tackle Bacio della Morte and his thugs. The sword falls out of the mafioso’s hoof and lands before me.

“What’s going on?” Bacio della Morte asks Cloudchaser. Instead of a reply, she closes cuffs on his forelegs. “My lawyer–”

“Your lawyer will shit himself when he hears about this,” Cloudchaser replies.

“Hey, you! In that flying blender!” Flitter exclaims. “Land and give up! You’re surrounded!”

“Blow me!” Cherry Berry replies. “I have the big shooting thingy which is bigger than your big shooting thingy!”

“I’m sorry for my friend,” Grace says, stealing the megaphone from Vinyl. “She has a plate in her skull that makes her dumb. Of course we’ll land and give up.”

“Hey!” Blossomforth exclaims, pointing at me. “This one is armed!”

Two pegasi tackle me and Trixie and cuff us. Blossomforth lands before us. “They’re similar to those two who stole Cedric Lulamoon’s sword in Prance...”

“You let us,” I mutter. “What the fuck, Blossomforth?”

“Shh.” Blossomforth leans to me. “Internal regulations.”

“So, you’re going to arrest us too?” I ask.

“Not for long, Minuette, not for long...” She winks at me.

And this is how the story ended. They brought us to the station, put me in a cell with Vinyl and Trixie and left to fill out the documents. After a few hours, they released us. Just in time, since Vinyl wanted me to make her a prison tattoo. She ended up with a hoof-shaped bruise on her ass.

Anyway, we were discharged, just in time to see Bacio della Morte’s lawyer losing his shit (luckily, not literally) when he heard about what his client did. Not to mention that, while we were arrested, his meth lab exploded, shooting meth around – roughly ten hours before the time I’d set. The guards almost came when they saw this. Finally, they had a proof that Bacio was a dealer.

On our way back from Las Pegasus, we told Cherry Berry to land on the rock farm. Inkie introduced Coco to her family, while Trixie, Vinyl, and I went to our stash in the old mine and shared the cash. We had to make two trips to get all this to Ponyville, actually. Inkie’s family took all this surprisingly well.

Give me some wine, my dear, I talked to you for hours and my throat is dry like dead dingo’s donger. What? You want to know what happened then? I guess you know, judging by the fact that it’s Inkie and Coco’s wedding. Trixie and I gave them the money we received as a prize for helping the guards catching Bacio della Morte. We don’t need it, and those fillies will surely find a good use for it.

What about my money? Not gonna tell you. I have some plans, but they may wait. Grace? Where are you going?

“Once the wedding is over, I’m going to the pub. Haven’t seen a nice stallion in ages. Going with me?”

Oh, sure. Once I’m done talking with those young ponies here. So, yeah... Every good story should have a moral, so... Don’t be like me. Don’t be friends with Vinyl. Don’t buy fuses from Flim and Flam. Don’t do all this things I did, or you may get arrested. Eat well. Sleep long. Have safe sex. Hey, you – this filly was looking at you whole night long. Find some quiet place to talk.

I’m leaving. I guess you now think that I exaggerated some things for the sake of storytelling, but I don’t care. See you later, guys. I hope we will see again soon.

We will, for sure.

Author's Notes:

Trzeba było tak od razu... - You should've told me earlier...
Qui est cette pouliche et pourquoi essaye-t-elle de me lécher les sabots? - Who is that filly and why is she trying to lick my hooves? (translation by Inomsim)