Lyra and I kept in contact, meeting at the end of each day to trade notes on our findings of humans in general, and to let each other know if either of us had managed to find the stranger. I found my curiosity regarding humans increase; Lyra had every right to be interested in such a remarkable race.

However, until I managed to see the stranger again, our meetings were short, to the point, and over rather quickly. She told me she didn’t want Bon-Bon to know she was having more “secret meetings” and jump to conclusions.

It wasn’t too long before I discovered the stranger was still in Ponyville.

He seemed attracted to Sugarcube Corner, for reasons I don’t think I really want to know. I theorize that not only did he have an uncontrollable sweet tooth, he seemed to crush on Pinkie Pie. Much like the way he crushed on every mare he happened to share a glance with. If Pinkie Pie ever thought that this was his reason for coming, she never showed it.

In fact, after he ruined one of Pinkie Pie’s parties (You know, her very reason for being), I’m surprised she ever allowed the stranger back at all. She’s a good girl, kind of silly and naïve, so it’s not all that strange for her to have put the past behind her, I guess. You’d have to screw up pretty badly for Pinkie Pie to inflict her wrath upon you (That reminds me, never break a Pinkie Promise. The results can be terrifying).

Pinkie Pie would tell me this story almost as soon as she got off work that day, at first too fast, then too slow, until I goaded her into giving the story to me straight. It started out regularly, Pinkie Pie baking some cakes when she heard a familiar voice.

When she came to the desk, she saw Mrs. Cake talking to the stranger. The first thing Pinkie worried about was whether or not he was trying to hit on her. The marriage between the Cakes had already become slightly tempestuous thanks to the questionable parentage of their twins (Although I do stand by Mrs. Cake’s assertion that her family tree includes unicorns and pegasi, I do understand Mr. Cake’s concern), and Pinkie Pie had hoped to avoid putting their union into any further jeopardy.

So what does our girl Pinkie Pie do? Take a guess. Does she

A. Ask him to leave?

B. Tackle him like a football player, complete with a helmet?

C. Throw a refrigerator at him?

D. Throw a refrigerator at him, then stuff him in it?

E. Stuff him in a refrigerator and then throw it?

If you answered with any of these solutions: congratulations, you’re absolutely dead wrong! Your prize is learning what actually happened! Tell her what she’s won, Bob!

Pinkie had always had a streak for doing bizarre things, but putting a stick of butter on the stranger’s head must have been a surreal experience for every party involved. Strangely, the butter melted on his head despite having only been refrigerated just before. The stranger looked at her objectionably, then began to cry.

Mrs. Cake asked her why she had gone and done that. Pinkie told her all about the welcome party, the things he said, and what he’d been up to since then. She merely looked at the stranger, the butter dribbling off his head like a melting yellow hat. She gave him a towel to clean the butter from his brow and politely asked him to leave.

Obviously, the stranger—like most temperamental children—did not enjoy being told “No,” and began to rage at the unfairness he believed was being levied at him. Pinkie Pie would tell me that he mentioned that Mrs. Cake was partaking in “The World’s Favorite Game of Kick the Autistic”. Pinkie then said she had never heard of this game, and asked him what the rules were.

This question only angered the stranger more, and he began to raise his voice at her, to which Mrs. Cake became upset. When she told him that if he does not leave quietly she would call the police, he responded in the most mature and responsible fashion he could think of.

He called Mrs. Cake a fatty.

Now, I admire Mrs. Cake. She is able to look like a desirable mare despite her spread (Or alternately, probably even because of it), and evidently her husband agrees. It’s not that she doesn’t care about her weight, it’s that her husband has convinced her he doesn’t mind how she looks, and will be with her no matter how old and fat the either of them get.

But the sheer meanness of this stranger—this sudden burst of a childish fit—added to his generally unpleasant presence, along with his comment about her weight (While simultaneously ignoring the fact that Mrs. Cake’s weight came with her age, while he doesn’t have an excuse) caused poor Mrs. Cake to lose her cool and begin to cry.

Almost as if he possessed a “My Wife is In Danger” alarm, Mr. Cake came down from their room upstairs (He had been taking care of the twins as it was his turn that morning). He looked at his wife, who was in tears, then to the stranger—this ugly and unwelcome little gnome-pony. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing an impressive anchor tattoo on his right foreleg (Pinkie tells me he used to be in the Navy when he was younger), and scowled.

Pinkie had hid under the front desk at this point, but heard the stranger on the receiving end of a solid thrashing. A table had been overturned, Mrs. Cake cheered on her husband, the sound of a kick, then a yelp, then a crash. Mr. Cake ran out after the stranger and waited by the front door. “And don’t come back! You’re not welcome here!”

If I ever meet a stallion similar to Mr. Cake, you know I’d snap him up. Few stallions are, pardon my French, as badass as he is.

Well, after being told all this by Pinkie Pie, I had asked if she knew where he had escaped to. She merely shrugged and said she didn’t know. If he were merely living in a cardboard box at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised. His antics, circus of shame and humiliation as it were, had robbed him of the sympathy of nearly every pony in town, so I can’t imagine anypony giving him any change.

But if he couldn’t get any money, then how was he eating? How could he afford any food? Was he still being provided for somehow? How was he still able to afford his ridiculous and uncomfortable-looking clothing with chump change? The only answer to these questions was that he was still receiving some money, but I had no idea where from.

The trouble really started to cook come the next day. I hadn’t known about it beforehoof, but Apple Bloom had later told me that one of her classmates, Featherweight, had reported his camera missing late the day before. This was considered a major set-back to the student newspaper, and nearly every student had searched the school, then the playgrounds, and came back with nothing.

It was also later reported that somepony had broken into the student newspaper’s printing room, which Diamond Tiara was in trouble for (she had neglected to close and lock the doors). They found much of their newsprint paper missing, and the printing press had signs of having been used. The piece that had been printed was found on nearly every doorstep, and extras had even been flung all over Ponyville.

When I woke up that morning, after most of this had already transpired, Spike had brought in the newspaper (Which, suspiciously, was only one page long). He looked like he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do about what he’d read, and handed it to me. He walked downstairs, and figuring out what it was he wanted to do about what he’d learned, he burst out laughing.

I read the paper, which was perhaps a hoof-full of paragraphs long. I have attached it to this letter, so that you may read, without peripheral or second-hoof knowledge, what kind of character our stranger is.

Carrot Cake: COLDHEARTED and MEAN

In the Morning of XXXX, a Man was Found Running away from Sugarcuve Corner in TEARS. It was because of the Cruel and Unusual Punishment of being Beat Up by none other than local Autistic Hater Extrordinar, Carrot Cake.

HE IS CRUEL AND a horrible PONY. He took his Wife like ALL males away from People who better Deserve Them, GOOD, and KIND PEOPLE LIKE ME!!!!!! He Like sto play the game Kick the Autistic, and is probably a HOMO!!!!

All readers of this newspapper are encouraged to Seek Out and Make Him Pay for being mercyless and cruel to us Autistics. Everypony At My Command will come and Make Him Pay, and I hop the ghost of My Father Gives him the Nightmares Tonight so he can PEE IN HIS BED WHEN WE FIND HIM!!!!!!!

Have a nice day.

Strangely, there was no photograph, despite Featherweight’s camera having been stolen.

I decided to investigate. Once again, our stranger had gone too far.

The place to begin my investigations that day was Sugarcube Corner where the stranger had been assaulted by Carrot Cake. When I had arrived, Mr. Cake was being interviewed by local police, who were getting the story straight. When they learned that he was acting to protect his wife from a deranged customer, they took their things and left, continuing their investigations elsewhere.

After witnessing this, Spike and I wondered if it was a good idea to interview Mr. Cake. His reputation was now being put into question by local authorities, and we didn’t want to impose. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked Snips and Snails, wearing some rather large smiles.

Snips greeted Mr. Cake enthusiastically, asking if he really DID punch out the stranger (Since who else could have written such an article?). When Mr. Cake, embarrassed, admitted to losing his temper and throwing the stranger out with a few bruises, Snips and Snails let out a cheer, proclaiming how awesome Mr. Cake was.

Surprised, Mr. Cake asked them how beating up a fat pony made him cool. They explained that the stranger had broken into their school and vandalized their property in order to slander him. Apparently, Mr. Cake hadn’t known about the stranger’s recent crime, and was shocked at this news. Can’t say I blame him: the thought of the stranger around foals made me shiver.

Just then, we all heard a loud thump at the door, followed by a groan. The door opened and in stumbled Derpy—who had crash-landed again. She walked over to Mr. Cake, almost in tears. I didn’t want her to ask him what I thought she was going to ask (“How could you do something so MEAN?”), but then she made a comment that cleared up a lot of questions.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cake! I let Chris stay at my house ‘cuz he had no place left t’go, an’ he stole Featherweight’s cam’ra an’ took pitchers of you an’ Big Mac to use as dartboards, an’ he broke into th’ school an’ used their press t’make a slander paper ‘bout you! I’m so sorry!”

Mr. Cake hugged her, followed by his wife, and then I hugged her, all of us a great big ball of sympathy. I couldn’t imagine what having a pony like the stranger in one’s house could do to one’s sanity, and somepony as simple and trusting as Derpy could have been seriously hurt from all this.  (I quickly asked who was at her house to watch her daughter Dinky, and she said Dinky had stayed over at her friend Twist’s house.)

So we called the police, told them about the stranger at Derpy’s house, and let them take care of it.

Featherweight got his camera back, and I was able to find enough blank newspaper print and newspaper ink at my library to refill what they’d lost. As for the stranger, he was thrown in jail to be tried for breaking and entering, theft, vandalism, alleged attempted assault, and libel. You can bet the student paper had a big story for their next issue! As for the Cakes, they saw their business skyrocket: many ponies came specifically to do business with The Pony Who Fought and Won. (A few even asked to have their picture taken with him!) All in all, a happy ending.

But a few loose threads remained. Namely, the stranger’s real identity, his real home, how he managed to get here, and how he can return.

Lyra and I decided it was time for one last interview. Taking our notes, we went to the jail where he was being held.

Next Chapter: 7. "Girl" Is the New "Boy" Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 41 Minutes