What can I say about Fillydelphia? Well… you know Manehattan, right? Fillydelphia is a bit similar, but has no statue, smaller port, the rich ponies aren’t as rich as those in Manehattan, and the poor ponies can’t afford firearms and have to threaten you with knives when they want to rob you. When I think about it, Manehattan and Fillydelphia are nothing alike.

Okay, screw it. I’m not Trenderhoof, I don’t have to tell you about all the sights, famous restaurants, historical events and whatever the town I’m in has to offer. We aren’t even going to stay here for long. As soon as we arrived, we went to the port. Currently, we’re looking for the next ship to the Griffon Empire.

Or rather, Trixie and I are looking for the next ship to the Griffon Empire. Vinyl still can’t walk well, so she sits with Inkie in some bar. We’re walking from dock to dock, talking to ponies.

You may not believe me, but when I want, I can get on well with ponies just fine. It usually happens when I want something. Trixie is rather extrovert and, unlike Vinyl, knows where are the borders one shouldn’t cross if they don’t want to end up with a knife in the back, so she’s also a great help.

“Good morning,” I say to an old pony wearing a sailor’s uniform, who’s sitting on a deckchair next to a large steamship. “Where’s this ship going?”

“Mareseille, Prance,” he replies. “But we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“So, you’re not going to the Griffon Empire?” I ask.

“There’ll be a ship to Greifenhagen next week,” he replies. “If I recall correctly, there are none this week…”

Next week? Great. Till next week, della Morte’s guys will find us and skin us. Then des Grauen’s guys will dig us from the ground, revive us, drink our blood and skin us once more, for a good measure.

“Mareseille is good too,” Trixie whispers to me. “Trixie was there once. It’s a large port – there are lots of griffons, ponies, zebras, caribou and antelopes from Prance, Griffon Empire, Germaney, Ponyland, Great Bridletain, Neighterlands, Zebrica, Zebrakistan and whatever country you can think of there. It’s easy to hide.”

“Okay,” I say. “Can we buy four tickets to Mareseille then?” I ask.

“Sure,” the sailor replies. “Any weapons?”

Shit. I hope he’s not gonna take our shotgun and sniper rifle away.

“We have some,” I reply. “B-but we’re certified dragon slayers and we need them…”

When you think about it, it’s not so stupid lie. Imagine the four of us surrounding a dragon. Trixie protecting us with her spells, Vinyl blowing stuff up with her shotgun, Inkie as a virgin bait… and me, sitting somewhere far away with a sniper rifle. Though, on a second thought, it’d be suicide. It’s not medieval when you needed a virgin and a good sword to kill a dragon. A simple anti-aircraft cannon would be much better.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “We’ll only put it in the locker during the cruise. Safety regulations.”

“Okay,” I reply. “I don’t think there’ll be any dragons on our way…”

We walk away to find Inkie and Vinyl. Our surroundings aren’t very welcoming – a bunch of rusty containers, ubiquitous steam, smoke, and the smell of dead fish. I guess I’ll feel great during the cruise. Trixie probably thinks about the same thing.

“Is it possible to survive two weeks without eating?” she asks. “Trixie gets seasickness just by looking at this ship…”

“I don’t think so…” I reply. “Well, maybe Vinyl could do that… Her brain doesn’t consume much energy…”

Trixie looks me directly into the eyes. What the hay? She’s gonna attack me or what? “Why are you always such a jerk for her?” she asks.

What?

“Am I?” I ask.

“All the time,” Trixie replies. “For her, for Trixie… Basically for everyone except Inkie.”

“Umm… Because that’s the way I deal with stupidity?”

“Are you suggesting that Trixie is stupid?”

What’s wrong with her? Time for evasive maneuver.

“Of course not,” I say. “Just… one of my rules is ‘stupid until proven otherwise’...”

Trixie sighs. “Are you suggesting that Trixie, who saved your sorry flank at least two times, not to mention killing a narcissistic vampire and defeating an Ursa Major, didn’t prove that she’s not stupid?”

Seems that it’s time for evasive maneuver number two.

“What happened to you?” I ask. “Why are you suddenly asking me why I am a jerk?”

“Because Trixie just realised that she’s going to spend two weeks on a ship, probably vomiting all the time. Also, that time of the year comes and she doesn’t want to kill anyone… And you’d be first in line.”

“Okay, Trixie, you’re not stupid. You seem to have some planning skills…” I say. “Since then, I’ll be nice to you… and to Vinyl if you want…”

“Thank you,” she says. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is glad that we have this matter settled.”

I sigh with relief. I’d rather not know the wrath of The Great and Powerful Trixie. A small sample I saw on the rock farm is definitely enough for me.

We trot next to some another bunch of containers (which look exactly the same as the containers we’ve seen before), when suddenly I hear something.

“They have to be somewhere there… Those two blue ones are smarter. We need to watch out, lads,” some mare on the other side of the container says. She has that distinctive hissing manner of speech one gets when they have fangs, but her accent is nothing like the bat ponies I’ve met. In fact, she sounds like she was born in the docks of some town in the northern part of Great Bridletain.

“Do you think they may be our friends?” I ask Trixie.

“Trixie thinks so,” she replies. “What are we gonna do? Run away?”

It sounds like a good idea. After all, we don’t know exactly how many “lads” are there with our mysterious stalker. But suddenly, a terrible thought appears in my mind.

“What if they find Vinyl and Inkie before we get to them? They won’t defend against them,” I say.

“And we will?” Trixie asks.

“Don’t worry, we have numerical superiority,” I say. “There’s two of us here and they’re alone…”

“That doesn’t convince Trixie…”

“I have a good plan,” I say. “I’ll go back and face them and you’ll circle that container and attack them from behind. One spell in the nuts and we’ll run.”

“You really want to kick some flank, don’t you?” Trixie asks.

“Kinda. You know, I used to be a hoofball fan when I was young,” I explain. “I know how to fight…”

“Yeah, Trixie remembers. But she still thinks you’re a nutjob.”

“Maybe. Let’s do this…”

Without waiting for her to say something I go back and circle the container. One of the “lads” probably hears my hoofsteps, because I can hear him saying, “Hey, Wild Hunt! Someone’s there.”

I step into the alley between the two containers and stand in front of them. Not bad. A bat pony mare with cherry mane, a black griffon and two grey earth ponies who look exactly the same as della Morte’s bodyguards. Maybe he clones them?

“Hello,” I sing. “Is it me you’re looking for?”

“Oh yeah,” says the mare,whose name is probably Wild Hunt. Though I bet she pronounces it “hoont”. “Della Morte family wants to talk with you. Not to mention that my boss, Nosferatu des Grauen isn’t happy about what you did to his ponies…

I chuckle. “Well, they should know that one doesn’t simply get into the rotor of the helicopter and survive. Also, it’s not that bad. We missed an occasion to deflower his daughter…”

“That explains why she didn’t want us to chase you,” Wild Hunt replies. I can see Trixie walking behind her and aiming her horn at a griffon. “Anyway, we don’t have time to talk.”

“What now?” I ask, seeing that Trixie needs time to charge the spell. “‘My name is Wild Hunt! You killed my father! Prepare to die?’”

She doesn’t reply. Instead, the griffon darts forward and tackles me. Trixie’s spell misses him by an inch. Ouch! My whole left side hurts. Wild Hunt also flies to me. Shit, she’s not like one of those talkative villains.

Time for a counter attack. I headbutt the griffon and hear him screaming when my horn leaves a nasty scratch on his face. Wild Hunt tries to bite me, but I dodge her and punch her at the back of the head. Fuck! She has a rather thick skull. She and the griffon fly a few feet above the battlefield and dive at me. I duck at the last moment and the griffon misses me, instead hitting the container with a loud thud. For a moment I can see Trixie fighting with two earth ponies, but then Wild Hunt rams into my injured side, knocking the air out of my lungs.

I don’t like to have debts, so I kick her in the stomach and catch her neck. She grabs my horn, preventing me from ending a fight with a clean little fireball to her face. Holding each other we roll on the ground. I grit my teeth – the griffon’s first attack left me with claw marks from my front leg to my cutie mark. I’m bleeding and I definitely need stitches.

Luckily, the griffon is still knocked down after a contact with the iron wall of the container and some of my blows managed to injure Wild Hunt a bit. I get on her back, tearing some hair from her mane. She flaps her wings furiously and suddenly I see that we’re flying above the alley. The griffon regained consciousness and looks at Wild Hunt, unsure what to do. The earth ponies are cornered by Trixie who shoots spells at them.

Meanwhile, I’m in the middle of a fucking mid-air rodeo. Wild Hunt tries her best to shake me off her back and I, of course, hold her as if she was my loving mother.

“You Wild… cunt…” I mutter through gritted teeth.

“Fucking muppet!” she replies.

“Friggin’ Scouse!” I yell, hitting her in the back of the head. On a second thought, it’s not a good idea – we’re, like, fifty feet above the ground.

“Bloody Oatsie!” she hisses. Oatsie? Well, my father has a distinctive accent, but my is almost unrecognisable. But, after all, bat ponies have good hearing.

“Bitch!” I shout. I’m kinda out of ideas.

“Whore!”

Okay, she crossed the line. Remember when I mentioned bat ponies’ good hearing? Well, her sweet, fluffy ears are right below my face. I open my mouth and grab one of them with my teeth.

Forgive me, I’m not gonna tell you what was her reaction to such treatment. My mother would hear that story and she’d go to Hollow Shades and kill her. You know, my mom kinda doesn’t like when someone implies something about her. Also, I have better things to do. The griffon is in the air behind us and prepares to attack.

Still holding Wild Hunt’s ear with my teeth I slid off her back a split second before the griffon rams into her and crashes into the ground. What an idiot. Not only he, me also. The pavement is getting close a bit too fast for my liking. I’m not Fluttershy, butterflies won’t save me now...

“Minuette!” I hear Trixie’s shout. A moment later, a wave of magic slows me down. Instead of becoming a bloody stain on the concrete, I gain a couple of new bruises. Also, since Wild Hunt landed on Trixie just after she fired a spell to save me, the earth ponies now turn their attention to me. And guess what? The griffon is unconscious again. Maybe it’s better for his companions.

I stand up and feel that I have something foul-tasting in my mouth so I spit it out. Eww… Seems that I accidentally pulled a Mike Tycolt on poor Wild Hunt. Seeing the approaching earth ponies I light my horn and aim it at one of them. I choose the one on my left side. When I fire the spell, the other one will surely tackle me and I’d rather be hit from the side without four pretty wounds after the griffon’s claws.

I see that Wild Hunt currently poses no threat. She’s lighter than Trixie, so she practically bounced off her and hit the pavement. What’s more, Trixie now stands on one of her wings and aims her horn at her in a manner saying “make one move and you’ll need an eyepatch”.

“Hey, you,” I say to the earth pony I aim my horn at. Some blood escapes my lips, but I don’t care. “My spell’s target is locked on your balls. Even if you dodge it’ll reach them. If you or your friend try to attack me, your griffon friend will have your fried cojones for dinner...”

Maybe you don’t know, but intimidation is my second name. Or, actually, third. The second is Romana, but don’t tell anyone.

“Umm… Steve?” the earth pony says to his friend. I can see bullets of sweat on his forehead. “Maybe we’ll reconsider this…”

“Don’t worry, Steve,” his companion says. “She’s bluffing. If she could really do that, she’d already do that. Unless we deal with the case of ‘Daring Do villain stupidity’...”

“You mean, when the villain explains his whole plot to Daring Do instead of just shooting her?” Steve the First asks. “I’ve never liked that trope. So, you think that she’ll now start a lengthy monologue, hoping that we’ll run away?”

I sigh and fire a spell at his balls. He screams some more bad things about my mother and collapses, holding his family jewels. Steve the Second charges at me blindly. He’s much heavier than me and, for the second time today, I experience the joys of flying. This time, on much smaller altitude, but it doesn’t change the fact that gravity is a harsh mistress.

The whole world spins around me. Steve the Second stands above me, while Trixie is still holding Wild Hunt. It seems that we have a draw.

“Give up,” Trixie says to him. “Or Trixie will snap her neck…”

“Oh, come on…” Steve the Second rolls his eyes. “Mexicolt standoff now? I don’t even know her. I’ve met her only yesterday…”

“But you could still make friends with her,” I mutter. “Friendship is Magic, after all…”

“I didn’t ask you for an opinion, coat hanger…” he says.

“That’s racist…” I reply. “Also, thanks for reminding me…”

“Reminding you of what?”

A second later a wave of magical energy throws him off me. He lands on the ground with an expression of someone who just discovered that he was cheated by the shop owners during the post-Hearth’s Warming Eve sales.

“You were holding my hooves and forgot about the horn,” I reply. “Sorry, mate, c’est la vie.”

“Shit,” he mutters and tries to stand up, but my spell holds him in place. It works for an hour or so and you don’t want to know why I learned it in the first place. I do the same to Wild Hunt – they’ll have some time for bonding.

We slowly walk back to the bar where we left Vinyl and Inkie. I can barely move – the wounds in my side aren’t deep, but they bleed like… like… like something that bleeds very much. It’s definitely not healthy to bleed like that. Not to mention that this griffon could have something on his claws. Tetanus, gangrene, avian influenza… Everything. I’ll die before I see Prance…

Seems that my Vinyl is showing.

We approach the bar and we see a large crowd gathered inside. I wonder what’s going on. Maybe Vinyl was attacked by a gang of lesbian mud wrestlers? Who knows whom della Morte hires. After seeing Steve and Steve, I think that lesbian mud wrestlers may be quite legit.

“Make place for the Great and Powerful Trixie!” Trixie yells. The crowd slowly moves to the sides. Trixie walks through it like an ice breaker, with me in her wake. Even though my vision is getting darker, I can still hear Vinyl.

“...and then the old pony says ‘when I was young I fucked a peacock and now I wonder if you’re my son’!”

The crowd laughs. I stagger and collapse. Now that’s what I call the show. Everything goes silent. Or maybe it’s just my hearing failing. No, definitely it’s not that, since I can hear Inkie’s scream. Hey, it’s just like in the movies. You know, someone suddenly passes out, someone screams, then there’s cut, you wake up and see a doctor with a cane who says that it’s definitely lupus. Or sometimes you don’t wake up at all and some ginger tells a cheesy one-liner over your body while putting on his sunglasses.

This time it’s a bit of both. When I open my eyes I’m in a hospital. There’s no doctor, but there’s Vinyl.

“See? I knew that she…” She puts on her glasses. “...would come unscratched!”

Yeah. My whole side is numb and when I look at it I see the bandages covering three long rows of stitches. Hooray for me…

“Did you try to fuck a peacock or what?” Vinyl asks. She sits on a chair next to my bed, resting her injured hoof on it.

“We were attacked by your friends,” I reply. “Including a griffon.”

“Helmut?” Vinyl looks at me curiously, as if she was trying to compare my wounds to the claws of her friend. “He’s dumb…”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed… But anyway he managed to get me...” I rub my side and hiss. “Fuck… Do you have any whisky here?”

“You’re on some crazy meds,” Vinyl says. “Antibiotics and shit. You can’t drink.”

“Great… Can we get out of here? We have a ship tomorrow, you know…” I grit my teeth, feeling a wave of pain from my side.

“You have an i.v.” Vinyl states the obvious. “It says ‘morphine’...”

Well, that explains why I feel a bit high. But I’m okay. I’ll get out of that hospital and somehow survive the cruise on painkillers and vodka.

“Also, you have some examinations scheduled. Including a colonoscopy…”

“What? Vinyl, by Celestia’s teats, I was beaten by a griffon! Why the hell do I need a colonoscopy?” I exclaim. Sorry, but that hole is one-way only.

“It was for free,” Vinyl replies. “Hey, I’d get one too. Do you know how much undigested food rots in a pony’s bowels? You can get really sick from that. I wonder if they do colon hydrotherapy here…”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “In your case it moved to the brain and that explains why you’re a shithead. Sweet Celestia! If lobotomy was for free, would you tell ‘em to do it to me too?”

“It is for free. And I was considering it,” Vinyl replies. “But, for some reason, Trixie told me not to do that.”

Trixie, once I get out of here, I’ll buy you a beer. Or two. And I’ll even make a massage. With a happy end. Just come here and save me from that amateur doctor!

Just when I think that, the door bursts open and Trixie comes in, followed by Inkie. “We have a problem,” she says.

“I have a problem…” I mutter, pointing at Vinyl.

“We need to get out of here…” Trixie says, apparently not noticing me. “Before they kill us…”

“I need to get outta here before Vinyl kills me…” I say. “Wait, what?”

“Call the neurologist,” Vinyl says. “It’s echolalia. She has brain damage!”

“Shut up!” Trixie and I yell simultaneously. Vinyl’s jaw hangs low, but, luckily, she obeys our command.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“The hospital just admitted new patients,” Inkie says. “A griffon with a concussion, a bat pony with cracked ribs and an earth pony with second-degree burns on his… umm…”

“Sounds familiar…” I sigh. “How about Steve the Second?”

“He’s somewhere here,” Trixie says. “With some friends…”

I know two foreign languages. I can swear in, like, ten more, including Zebrikaans and Neighponese. Yet, I can’t find a curse that’d fit that moment. Perkele? Kammelneuker? Ima Shelcha Matzetza Li Etmol?

“Let’s get outta here,” I say, trying to stand up from my bed. I get dizzy immediately. Crap, what happened to me? I felt quite good before I got there. Well, except of that passing out thing. But now? They brought me here to die and sell my organs. It’s surely Vinyl’s fault.

I feel that Inkie takes me on her back. Is that some new tradition? Minuette’s down, let’s carry her somewhere? Last time it happened, I woke up in a coffin. We walk down the corridor, Vinyl and Trixie carrying our stuff. This is not gonna end well.

“What’s going on here?” someone asks. I turn to look and see some nurse standing in our way. “Where are you going with the patient?”

“The patient feels better,” Trixie says. “We can’t miss our ship.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s better,” the nurse replies, watching me curiously. You don’t say. My mouth is drier than dead dingo’s donger and I feel like throwing up, shitting myself, or both, but I know one thing – I can’t stay here with a bunch of della Morte’s guys who can pay me a visit at any time.

“I always look like that,” I reply, trying to smile. It’s kinda hard when I have a revolution in my stomach. Whatever I ate, just proclaimed the New Lunar Republic. It can only end it one way.

“Are you sure?” the nurse asks. “If you always look like that you may have cancer. Or you’re malnourished…”

You know what’s the best way to deal with a revolution? Banishment. Too bad, I’m not princess Celestia, so I couldn’t banish the contents of my stomach to the moon. Instead, when I opened my mouth, some of them landed on the floor, some in Inkie’s fur and some of the nurse, who backpedalled.

Vinyl isn’t the kind of pony who thinks twice when provided distraction. “Run for your lives!” she yells. Luckily, nopony questions her orders. Trixie and Inkie start to run down the hospital corridor. Someone chases us, but slips on my vomit. You know, the shaking when Inkie started to run didn’t help my stomach.

We trot down the stairs and Inkie, for lack of better word, loses me. I mean, at one moment I’m on her back and then I suddenly on the floor. Why it always happens to me? Why can’t I be like Trixie? I’d have a combo of heat, constipation, motion sickness, and sudden aggression attacks, but at least I wouldn’t lie on the floor now, my vision blurry after I fell on my injured side.

Inkie picks me up and runs behind Trixie and Vinyl. We run to the hospital’s garage and stop in front of one of the wagons they use as ambulances.

“Inkie, put Minuette in the back,” Vinyl orders. “Trixie, you’ll pull it.”

“How about you?” Inkie asks.

“I’ll turn on the siren. I’ve always wanted to do that,” Vinyl replies. They put me on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance and we ride through the garage. There’s a barrier at the gate, but for Trixie it’s not an obstacle; she breaks through it and we’re on the street.

Vinyl, for once, had a good idea with the siren – everyone who’s on the street runs away from us. Or maybe it’s just the sight of her holding the reins. In terms of reckless riding, she’s better than Flitter. If I were seriously ill, I’d be afraid of my life. Currently, I’m a little hazy. Maybe it’s the blood loss, maybe it’s morphine. I can’t see where are we going. I think we’ll go to the port, board on the ship and stay there till tomorrow. At least that’s what I would do. Currently, I’m standing in the corner of the ambulance, watching my own body and I have no influence on the decision my companions will make.

Wait. What did I just say? I’m standing in the corner of the ambulance doing WHAT?! Oh fuck. Just great. I’m here, my body is there. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. At least that what I think so. I don’t know. For over twenty years I’ve been inside of my body and I got quite used to such state. Also, if I’m not in my body, shouldn’t I be, like, either in Tartarus, playing poker with Tirek, or in Elysium, where I’d got a pair of wings, an aureole, and a harp. Where the fuck are my wings? I’ve been cheated, for fuck’s sake!

Great. If I’m still here, it may mean that I still have something to do on this cruel world. Like, saving those three idiots from being thrown to the river by the mafia. Just awesome. How am I even supposed to do that without my body?

I can see Inkie staring at it, her eyes widening in panic. “Vinyl!” she screams. “There’s something wrong with Minuette!”

“What’s wrong with her?” Vinyl asks, trotting into the back of the wagon and staring at my body.

“She’s not breathing,” Inkie replies, poking my body unsurely.

“Why do you think it’s wrong? I’d say it’s a stable condition.” Vinyl smirks. She lifts my hoof and releases it. The sound it makes when it hits the stretcher makes me cringe. Can ghosts even cringe?

“But it’s not supposed to be like that,” Inkie says. “You know, we had another sister, but when she stopped breathing, our father buried her under the tree.”

“Hmm…” Vinyl watches my body carefully and licks her lips. “I think I know what we should do. I’ve seen it in one movie…” She takes a deep breath and leans to my mouth.

No way! You’re not gonna resuscitate me, you stinky cunt! A moment later, I’m back in my body, screaming at the top of my lungs. One of my hooves reacts instinctively – I smack Vinyl’s face, sending her back at the wall of the carriage.

“Ouch!” Vinyl yells. “I’m saving your life and that’s how you treat me?”

“Your breath smells,” I reply. “I actually came back from the afterlife just at the sight of you helping me…”

“My breath smells? You threw up on that nurse! Do you know how you smell?” Vinyl exclaims. “Also, I’m going back to the reins. You kinda died and you know what usually happens to you after you die…”

Oh shit. Literally. Now I’m gonna die for the second time. This time of shame. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. It’s kinda hard when Inkie pokes me from time to time, checking if I’m dead, but finally I manage to do that.

I wake up in a bed, clean and with fresh bandages. There’s a small, round window here and when I look through it I see the ocean. Woohoo! It seems that we made it. Unless, of course, it’s a kind of some really fucked-up afterlife.

The door opens and Inkie walks in. She sits on a chair next to my bed.

“How long I’ve been out?” I ask. I’m surprised how weak my voice sounds. Geez, it’s the last time I’m getting into a fight on my own will.

“Two days,” Inkie replies. “Luckily, there’s a doctor on this ship…”

“Great,” I say. “How’s the rest?”

“Vinyl is in the bar and Trixie is in the toilet, fighting the effects of heat and seasickness…”

Eww! The very image makes me dizzy. I’m not gonna use that toilet. In fact, I don’t want to think about that. I lie back in my bed, gathering strength. The cruise is long. My wounds and Vinyl’s hoof will have a time to heal.

It takes me a day of gathering strength before I manage to walk out of my room. During this time barely anything happens. Inkie feeds me, Vinyl sometimes visits me, drunk, stoned or both. When there’s nopony here, I imagine Big Macintosh. My hooves are getting sore and my head aches from time to time because of that – I guess I shouldn’t overexert myself. But what can I do? Trixie’s hormones are floating in the air.

Anyway, after a day or so, I get up from my bed and trot to the deck of the ship. It’s quite spacious and luxurious, with two bars, a swimming pool, and a casino. With my poor head, I’d rather not risk going to the casino, though I’m sure that Vinyl already managed to lose her share of della Morte’s money there. Instead, I choose one of the bars. No, I’m not gonna drink either. I limp to the counter, sit next to a violet earth mare with blonde mane and thick-rimmed glasses and order a glass of sparkling water.

“Bad day?” the mare asks, pointing at my stitched side.

“More like ‘bad last two weeks,” I reply. Then I levitate a glass of water and take a sip.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad… At least you don't have to travel with a crazy musician, an idiot who talks in third person, and a shy, closeted lesbian…” she says.

The glass freezes halfway through the way between the counter and my mouth. “H-how do you know?” I ask.

“Oh… you do?” She suddenly extends her hoof to me. “Grace Manewitz,” she says.

“Minuette,” I say, bumping my hoof against hers. “So, how are yours?”

“Well, we’re travelling to Prance as a part of Octavia Melody’s World Tour,” Grace replies. “I have to take care of Octavia and two ponies responsible for her clothes – Photo Finish and Coco Pommel.”

“It doesn’t sound that bad,” I say. “You know, I’m running away from mafia with a DJ who fell into a cauldron with magic weed as a foal and since then she’s constantly stoned, a travelling magician with parental issues, and a teen who ran away from the rock farm…”

“I’m jealous…” Grace replies. “Octavia snorts coke like a vacuum cleaner and I have to take care of her so she doesn’t join the 27 Club two years early, Coco once fainted when she heard me swearing, and Photo Finish is from Germaney…”

“Is it really that bad?” I ask. After all, they make a good beer in Germaney.

“I’d like to remind you that my surname is Manewitz,” Grace says. “She keeps telling me that when she was young…” She rolls her eyes. “And she has underwear with Aryanne…”

“Eww…” For the umpteenth time in the last few days, my mind was assaulted with an unpleasant mental image. “Okay, so she thinks you’re an Unterpferd. I must admit it’s worse than all those ponies who think I’m a lesbian…”

“Oh, it also happened.” Grace waves her hoof dismissively. “It took me a while before I explained Coco that I’m not.”

“Same with me and Inkie,” I reply. “Also, Vinyl is, like, totally unaware of what happens around her. You know, like a kid playing with a grenade.”

“You should see Octavia when she’s high…” Grace shows me a scar on her stomach. “I once tried to get her out of a bar full of psychopaths. And guess who did that to me…”

“Well, you’ve seen those…” I point at my stitches. “The mafia sent a griffon. I almost died and when I woke up, Vinyl was trying to resuscitate me.”

“Lucky you!” Grace exclaims and orders another whisky. “If something like that happened to me, Octavia wouldn’t care, Coco would freak out, and Photo Finish would throw me into the furnace…”

“I don’t think it’d be that bad,” I say. “At least you didn’t have to hitchhike with two sisters being in BDSM lesbian incest relationship…”

“I wish I did…” Grace rolls her eyes. “Fashion industry and show-business… I know a guy who married his dog…”

“Is that even legal?”

“No. He had to go to the Neighterlands.”

For a moment we sit in silence.

“Trixie has problems with aggression,” I say. “She almost took over Equestria. Two times, actually.” I order another water.

“You should see Photo Finish when she’s angry.” Grace straightens in her seat. “Why is zat not done yet? I, Photo Finish say zat it should be done, you dirty Schweine! You must do better! Faster! Mehr power! Wenn die Kraft zum Kämpfe um die eigene Gesundheit nicht mehr vorhanden ist, endet das Recht zum Leben in dieser Welt des Kampfes. Sie Gehört nur dem kraftvollen „Ganzen” und nicht dem schwachen „Halben”!!!”

The ponies in the bar look at us unsurely. One of them faints, though it may be an effect of vodka.

“Okay, you win,” I say quickly. “Just don’t do that anymore. Though I bet none of your friends is crazier than Vinyl. She kinda was my almost-sister-in-law.”

“She was your what?” Grace raises her eyebrows.

“My brother’s girlfriend. Fun times, if you consider waking up in jail or waking up to see that she emptied your fridge fun. And they were, umm… loud.” I sigh. “But I miss those times. I had a job and I wasn’t chased by mafia.”

“Having a job isn’t that fun,” Grace says. “Look, I have a job and it sucks…”

“Still, I’d prefer to have a job. I’m poor, bored, and my sex life is almost non-existent.”

Grace chuckles. “Sex life? What is it?”

Suddenly, I have an idea one could consider great. That’s not much. Remember, last time I had a great idea, I ended up in Trixie’s wagon with lots of money and a suitcase full of cocaine. “You’ve mentioned that Coco is a closeted lesbian?” I say to Grace. “I think we can do something about that…”

We lay on the deck chairs next to the swimming pool, tanning and watching Coco and Inkie sitting on a blanket in front of us and… Well, in fact, they’re just sitting. I don’t get it. Coco is cute, she has blue mane, cream coat, and that kind of face that makes me want to change my orientation. That doesn’t happen very often, mind you.

Vinyl trots to us, levitating a drink and lies on a deck chair. “Did they say something to each other?” she asks, slurping her drink.

“Apart from ‘hi’? Nope,” Grace replies and stretches her hooves.

Vinyl looks and Coco and Inkie and nods her head. “You know, when I was at school, I had chemistry…”

“You were at school?” I ask. “That’s new to me…”

“Shut up,” Vinyl mutters. She produces a cigarette from… well, I’d rather not know from where. And it’s not exactly a cigarette. I mean, it’s not tobacco inside. She lights it with her magic and inhales the smoke. I hope she doesn’t blow it everywhere. I didn’t plan to get high today. “I had chemistry, you know. My teacher kept telling me that I had talent. When I made ethanol…”

“To the point, Vinyl…” I say. I know her long and I know that if I let her talk, she won’t end till the evening.

“Okay… So, I remember that sometimes two chemicals don’t want to react on their own…” She inhales the smoke and points at Coco and Inkie. “They need, like, a catalyst. It seems that it’s the case here…”

“What do you mean by catalyst?” Grace asks unsurely. I think I know the answer.

“Wait and see…” Vinyl says. She rises from her deck chair and trots to Coco and Inkie. “Hi, girls!” she says. “Do you want a joint?”

“No, thanks…” Inkie replies. Coco blushes deep crimson.

“Are you sure?” Vinyl asks, levitating her joint to them.

“I think it’s non-hygienical…” Coco mutters under her breath. I already love her. Inkie’s strong; she’s reasonable. I ship that. Pun not intended.

“Okay…” Vinyl sighs. “Maybe you want some cider?”

“Yes, please,” Inkie replies.

“I don’t drink…” Coco says, blushing even more.

Vinyl sits next to her and wraps her hoof around her, causing her to squeal. “There’s always a good moment to start…” she says, blowing smoke into her face. Coco coughs adorably. Well, contact buzz is also a good way, though I wouldn’t recommend that. Who knows what demons sleep inside Coco, only waiting to be awoken. You know, at one moment she squeals and blushes and then she puts laxatives in your coffee.

“Umm… okay, I’ll take some cider too…” Coco says. Way to go, Vinyl. This ship will soon sink because of you. I don’t know why exactly, but it’ll be somehow connected to the fact that you made Coco drink. I’m sure of that.

“I have a feeling that she just pushed a stone that’ll soon escalate into an avalanche which will sink this ship,” Grace says watching Vinyl walking to the bar.

“Are you reading in my mind or what?” I ask, but Grace doesn’t listen to me. Instead, she looks at a grey mare who’s standing on the deck, more or less halfway between Vinyl and the bar.

Vinyl sees her too. “Tavi!” she exclaims. Oh shit. That name brings memories.

Long time ago, before Vinyl started to go out with my brother, she was in a relationship with a cellist she always called “Tavi”. Depending of Vinyl’s mood when she was telling me about her, Tavi was either an angel who fell from Elysium, or a demon from the deepest pit of Tartarus. I notice Grace’s scarred expression and then I realise something.

“Tavi” and Octavia are the same pony.

“Tavi!” Vinyl shouts, approaching the grey mare. “Love of my life! Queen of my dreams! My favourite, loveliest, sexiest…”

Thud!

Well, that was unexpected. Vinyl rolls on the deck, holding her jaw and muttering curses under her breath. Octavia stands above her, staring at her with disdain.

“You!” she exclaims. “You left me, punk!”

“What?” Vinyl asks. “It was you who left me!”

“Me?” Octavia pushes her. I’m seriously going to intervene. Only I can abuse Vinyl. “I went to visit my mom!”

“And you didn’t come back after two months!” Vinyl yells at her.

“And when I did I found that you left, stealing two thousand bits from the safe!”

I think I’ve heard that story before. Moral: when you’re with Vinyl, even a safe won’t help you.

“I only borrowed ‘em!” Vinyl replies. “I can give ‘em back!”

“I don’t want them!” Octavia yells. “I only want to know why did you have to shit on the carpet before leaving!”

“Hey, it wasn’t me!” Vinyl gets up from the deck and stands before Octavia, staring her into the eyes.

“Yeah, right. Who else would stick toothpicks into it and write ‘beware of the hedgehog’ on the wall?”

Vinyl smiles sheepishly. “Well… Maybe… Anyway, Tavi, I’m so glad to see you here, you know. I really missed you… You know, when I left you, I realised that I made a mistake and–”

I flinch, hearing the echo of another slap. Apparently, Octavia knows how to deal with Vinyl, but still, it’s painful to watch. After all, I’d like to join her.

“If you really missed me so much, let’s go to my bedroom and prove it…” Octavia says, helping Vinyl up.

“Sure,” Vinyl replies. “You’ll beg me for release…”

They slowly walk away. I slowly turn my face to Grace and I see that her eyes are wide in horror, as if she suddenly saw an iceberg approaching our ship. Who knows which of us would drown because of an inability to hold the door floating on the surface of the sea…

“D-did they just…” Grace stammers.

“Yes,” I reply. “Excuse me for a moment. After what I witnessed, I need to throw up.”

I trot away. I really need a quick walk and some fresh air. My wounds kinda hurt, not to mention that my head is still slightly battered. I walk about half of the deck, when I see a foal balancing on the top of the rail.

What the hell? Where are the parents of that kid? It’s a small, cute, yellow earth pony with orange mane. Probably a colt, though he has a diaper so I can’t tell. Those little shits are all the same.

Just before the kid finally falls into the depths of the ocean, I catch him with my magic. He starts to laugh; kinda like Vinyl when she’s stoned. What the hay? I levitate him to me and try to look him into the eyes. It’s hard, because he still looks at my horn, laughing so hard that he snotted himself. Not to mention that, judging by the smell, he needs a diaper change.

“Yeah, I know it looks like a dick. Now stop guffawing,” I mutter. “Where’s your mommy? I need to tell her a couple of things about raising foals.”

“Ba!” he replies. Just great. What did I expect?

“Can you at least tell me what your name is?” I ask.

“Ba!”

“Okay, you can’t talk. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Say after me: ‘my mommy is a dumb cunt who’ll get me killed before my first birthday’.”

He starts to cry. Way to go, Minuette. You’re a really bad parent. Still better than this kid’s mom, but you suck anyway. I levitate him and put him on my back. He cheers up and tries to bite my ear in a way reminding me of Wild Cunt, or whatever her name was. He doesn’t manage to do that since he has no teeth.

“Minuette!”

Crap. I recognise that voice. Before I even manage to turn around, Lyra Heartstrings is in front of me.

“Hello!” she exclaims and points at the kid. “Is it yours?”

“No, thank Celestia,” I reply. “Mine would be a red and black alicorn with bat wings and tragic backstory…”

Lyra looks at me unsurely. I think I know what she means – with me as a parent, every backstory would be tragic. “Then whose kid is he?”

“No idea. I found it here trying to become a shark bait. If I don’t find the parents, I’m gonna sell it to some circus.” I sigh and levitate the kid off my back. Judging by the sudden change of the way he was sitting on it, he now needs a diaper change more than before. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m going with professor Yearling to Minotauria,” Lyra replies. “We’ll excavate the ruins of the labyrinth…”

Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that Lyra is an archeologist. They travel around the world with professor A.K. Yearling, digging some ancient shit and occasionally almost getting themselves killed by some elaborate trap put in a temple built by some unknown tribe. Which reminds me of…

“I found it in an abandoned mine,” I say, producing a ring I found in the place where we hid our money. “Can you tell me what that is?”

Lyra looks at the ring curiously. “To be honest, it’s boring,” she says. “It’s a relic of creatures that inhabited the world before ponies, but wiped themselves off the face of earth with some unknown technology. Those rings are actually quite common. If it was a skeleton...”

Okay, I’m not gonna mention her that in fact there was a skeleton there. She’d get there, even if she had to swim. And then she’d find the rest of our money.

“Anyway, we need to find the parents of that kid,” I say. Meanwhile, the foal tries to bite my leg. He has a fetish, or what? “I can’t keep it.”

“Why not?” Lyra asks. “He’s so sweet… Did you know that dogs are as intelligent as 2-years-old foals?”

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn’t mean that dogs are wise; it rather means that foals are dumb…” I reply.

“Why so negative?” Lyra asks. “Once could think that you eat pets and small kids…”

“I simply don’t consider anyone who eats their own shit wise,” I mutter. “About eating, you said that he’s sweet…”

“Ba!” The colt waves his hooves, still trying to bite me.

“See? He agrees.”

“Excuse me…” I hear a mare’s voice behind me. Seriously, why everypony sneaks on me like that? One day I’ll accidentally kill someone… “That’s my child.”

“Oh really?” I ask, turning to an earth mare, who shudders, seeing my smile. “He almost fell off the rail. Where were you?”

“I… I was with my husband...” she replies.

“Good advice: don’t make a second foal when you can’t deal with the first one.” I levitate the kid back to his mother and put him on her back. Too bad his diaper doesn’t leak. “What’s his name, by the way?”

The mare sighs with relief. “Hannibal,” she replies. Then she quickly turns around and walks away.

“Wow…” Lyra mutters. “You don’t only eat kids, you also like their parents…”

“That’ll teach her,” I reply watching the mare as she walked away with little Hannibal and approached her husband – a brown earth pony stallion whose cutie mark is exactly the same as my. “Oh fuck…” I mutter.

“Minuette!” Lyra exclaims. “You didn’t mention that you became an aunt!”

Author's Notes:

If I recall correctly, this chapter contains lines in, like, six languages: English (no shit, Sherlock...), German, French, Finnish, Dutch, and Hebrew.