Note: this chapter skips a little bit ahead. we'll get back to the museum shortly.

 

The continued integration of my good self into Equestrian and particularly Canterlot society proceeded with some alacrity. By coincidence I found myself the recipient of an invitation by Fancy Pants to attend one of the local stage performances. The box seats were excellent, the play was divine, the company, consisting of Fancy Pants and his lady associate (alas, fellow bronies, I have not yet confirmed whether she is his spouse, paramour, or even daughter-- it seemed impolitic to ask, and the information was never offered) Fleur De Lys, was pleasant, charming, genteel and refined. (She has a most lovely accent, I will note in passing.)

Never had I felt more utterly out of my proper place in my life.

After the play there was a small festive gathering on an upper floor, and apparently some politically necessary social hob-nobbing. It was altogether stereotypical; Light music, bubbly drinks in glasses, empty chatter and emptier gossip, the usual sort of thing people within high society do in order to persecute themselves into dissipation and scourge happiness from the lower ranks. I was dressed in literally the first tuxedo I had ever owned in my life. God bless Rarity and her artisan skills, the thing managed to hang on my sloped and rounded frame and look fashionable, while actually remaining comfortable. You know the address, gents; Carousel Boutique, Ponyville, Equestria, and be sure to tell the proprietress that Sir Arthur Arcturus sent you. For all that, the best intentions of Celestia, Luna, and Fancy Pants were falling amiss, as you can dress a monkey in a tuxedo and those around him will still think the circus has come to town. I was intended to be, with Fancy Pants' aid, mingling with Canterlot high society, but was instead on display before it.

I truly wish I knew whether it was a subtle difference between humans and ponies, or whether it was a realistic reflection of "high society" in any place or time, but the snobs and effetes who clustered around Fancy Pants were so unsubtle and clownish in their fawning behavior to him that a six year old could have seen through their phony flattery.... and equally as unsubtle in their whispered jabs and barbs and none-too-veiled insults. I have never slapped a woman nor whipped a horse in my life, but I came incredibly close to doing both that night.

I also cannot help but wonder if ponies are naturally deaf as posts, because several of the nouveau riche gathered around us thought nothing of making rude comments about myself, my species or even my patrons and hosts while standing less than five feet away. The tearing point was when I heard one ghastly overmade bell dame remark to another, while standing right behind me no less: "Poor creature.... they say his race is an incredibly violent, warmongering species. Kill people in the name of their gods, or their countries, or just about anything. Absolute animals....."a tongue clicked in pity as counterfeit as a three dollar bill.

"Oh that's nothing dear; they say he has to be chaperoned even to keep him from regressing to such behavior himself. They say the Princess put those guards on him as much because she feared he would have an outburst and--- and well do who knows what. " This in a ridiculous stage whisper.

I am no practitioner of the Canterlot Royal Voice, but I do know how to project and can manage a quite impressive stentorian speaking volume when I wish. "They also say the old bugger is stone deaf," I said without turning around, in a voice that made the champagne flutes ring.  There were two strangled "eeps" behind me followed by the muffled hoofclops of pony retreat.

Fancy Pants and his inner circle crumbled into laughter at the twosome's expense. Or at least Fancy Pants did, and most certainly Mademoiselle De Lys; more than a few of the barbed remarks spouted that evening by the wretched pony had been at Fleur's expense as well.. she tittered behind her hooves and shot me what I suspect was a glance of gratitude for routing the old dragon and her sycophant... the rest, well, enjoyed the privilege of laughing along with Fancy Pants at someone other than themselves.

I was completely and utterly disgusted with the situation, with the evening, and with myself. I set my glass down on a tray as it floated past in a unicorn servant's magical grip, thanked my hosts for a charming evening, and marched out the door before I truly did lose my self control. Apologies of a more formal nature would have to come later...

I was outside and five steps down the street before my entourage of bodyguards joined me. Perhaps it was the dowager's comment about me being "chaperoned," perhaps it was the first time I'd ever tasted champagne, maybe it was just my foul temper, but I was in no mood for it. "Oh, enough! Leave off! " I said angrily, waving at them. "I'm capable of walking myself about!"

The lead earth pony pulled his head back but persisted. "I'm sorry sir, but our standing orders---"

"Rubbish!" I snapped. "What, are you afraid I'll pounce on somepony and eat them? Maybe stand in the middle of the street and fling poo?" The three of them gave me sympathetic looks, but stayed. "Oh for--- On my own head be the consequences, but leave me ALONE for just one evening!" I stumped my way off down the sidewalk. When I looked back, they were gone. Or, at least, nowhere that I could see them... fair enough. I knew there was going to be hell to pay later, but at the moment I was too headlong into my foul mood to care.

It was evening and the streetlamps were already lit. I didn't make it far; though I had lost some weight over the preceding months, I still tired quickly after even a short walk. After an interminable time I found myself at the entrance to a somewhat rundown theater, one that seemed to cater to a broader variety of audience than the usual Canterlot stage.  I saw a minotaur, a gryphon couple with their chick (cub?), even a cow or two....  I suspected I was close to the zeppelin yards,  where there would be a bit more diversity in the passing populace. I felt a rush of nostalgia for the movie theaters back home. They had movies here in Equestria, but I hadn't attended any, unless one counted Celestia and Luna's own private one back at the palace (Celestia had a weakness for the old Daring Do serials at the time.) I couldn't attend; circumstances always led to me sticking out like a 350 pound  thumb, and the seats were depressingly small. This on the other hand looked like just the place for a non-pony type to disappear for a moment; somewhere I could sit in the dark and not be stared at for a bit.

I procured a ticket--- the ticketpony didn't even glance at me-- and walked on inside. It was a middling theatre, dim and a bit shabby. The red velvet curtains were long past their prime, and most of the seats (glory of glories, extra large seats for extra large behinds!) were patched in multiple places. For once my garb attracted more curiosity than I did myself. How many different races wandered about Equestria's world, I wondered? I found a seat off to one side and made myself comfortable.

The lights went down and the stagelights went up, the 'band' (a quartet of musicians that barely deserved the name--- I swear one of them was playing a kazoo) struck up an intro. I was delighted; it seemed this was to be an old variety stage show, something that hadn't been around back home in over a generation.The first stage performance was a juggling quartet of earth ponies. They were quite skilled, especially for having no hands. Next up was a comedy and softshoe/hoof routine right out of yesteryear. Their resemblance to a certain pair of cider-peddling brothers had me wondering if Flim and Flam had found a new career....

After them came a gryphon doing, so help me, a ventriloquist act. It was rather mediocre, though, and pretty much ended on a bad note when the Gryphon lost his temper at his manikin and--- literally--- bit its head off. Shades of Ozzy Osbourne.

Despite the semi-seedy atmosphere and the seedier behavior of the uncouth audience,  I found I was rather enjoying myself. I'd never had the opportunity to see this old-school vaudeville style of entertainment back home, and it was quite refreshing to watch.

The lights dimmed even further. There was a drumroll., and someone offstage shouted,

"and now.... the Great and Powerful TRIXIE!!"

Ye flipping saints.

Yes, it was her. The curtains parted and a blue unicorn mare with a pale blue mane and a wand cutie mark stepped onstage. Her cloak and hat were different from the show--- plain dark blue cloth, no stars or moons, a few cheap spangles sewed on here and there. She made a showy flourish of her cape. "Welcome, one and all, to Tenpenny Theatre! Prepare to be astounded by the mystical magical feats of the GREAT and POWERFUL TRIXIE!!" With another flourish she began her act. She cast a few illusions, hitting the audience up with patter about her  adventures and travels and alleged wondrous feats. She did a few stage illusions as she went. flowers from her wand--- real flowers, mind you, I caught one and noted the scent...showers of coins from a bucket, vanishing cups and balls, locking rings....  She really wasn't half bad. No, I rescind that; she was, by any human standards, quite excellent, and could have easily held the stage anywhere back on Earth. Of course, she had her unicorn powers to make the job easier, but it was no less visually impressive.

As far as her current audience was concerned, might as well have been reciting pages of a phonebook. The audience members who weren't bored were listlessly heckling her. Jeers, catcalls, and at least one magically deflected tomato were hurled at the stage. I found myself rather offended on her behalf.

"Oh, some Neeeeeigh sayers in the audience?" (to my defense, I was not the only one that groaned at that pun.) "Well The Great and Powerful issues her challenge, to ANYONE in the audience." There was a sharp flash and crack of magic. Her cape floated out behind her and a pale blue aura lit her up. "If you think you are a match for the Great and Powerful Trixie... step up on the stage and try your luck."

"Anything you can do, I can do better."

The heckling faded out. One has to understand, magic users were far more elite than they might seem from merely watching the show. Unicorns represented  one third of the pony race--- genetically, that is; by actual census,they were the least numerous of the three. And Ponies were only one race among close to a dozen talking species that I knew of ( donkeys, goats, sheep, cows, minotaurs, dragons, sea serpents, gryphons...) For most of the Equestrian populace, magic--- what I had come to think of as morphic resonance manipulation-- was a great cryptic unknown. Even a simple stage magician using real hocus-pocus was a force to be reckoned with.

"Nopony?" Trixie said, arrogance seeping out of every pore. "Then we shall choose an audience member at random! Spotlight, please!" A second beam of light pierced down from the rafters and illuminated the unicorn. "How about--- YOU, sir!" She pointed into the room. The second spotlight swept out, searching...  and illuminated me where I sat.

...... Of course, of course. How else could it have possibly gone? I sat there, lit up like God's own day, in my full 350+ pound tuxedoed glory, waving feebly at the now invisible audience all around me. The audience groaned, which baffled me. Till I realized I was still dressed in the confounded tuxedo. Thanks to sheer coincident I looked like a bloody 'plant,' and a ludicrously obvious one at that.

Of course I wasn't. But The Great and Powerful Trixie, showpony extraordinaire, did not miss a beat. "Aha, a confrontation of the ages! The Great and Powerful TRIXIE is to be challenged by none less than the Unseen Watcher, the Man from Beyond Time and Space: Arthur Arcturus, the Human! Clear a path for him, mares and gentlecolts!" Now there was some enthusiasm in the audience. Applause, and none too few catcalls, rose around me as I got to my feet and helplessly walked down the aisle to the stage. What else could I do? The theatre was not packed, but it was full enough, and by quite a number of beings who were rapidly looking far more rowdy and dangerous to me than they had a moment before. Having minotaurs and diamond dogs in the audience will do that.

I pondered an exit strategy as I made my way up on the stage and stood next to Trixie. Yes, I decided, I definitely needed one.

Trixie stood there, smiling smugly. Comprehension bloomed. Random choice? Not a chance. She had obviously read up on me. More than likely she had told heaps of balderdash stories about her magical triumphs over me or humans like me. She deuced well knew that I was, contrary to all appearance or cultural apprehension, about as physically threatening as a burlap bag full of oatmeal, athletically inclined as a sofa, and that my species expressly had no magical ability whatsoever. I was a Horrifying Monster of the Week who could be beaten into submission with a weapon made of Nerf.  She had seen me in the audience and must have thought God had answered her prayers.

Even in my annoyance I couldn't help thinking bravo, you magnificent conniver. "Well, Mister Arcturus, name your challenge," Trixie said. "Show us all something you can do that Trixie cannot do better." Her voice, magically amplified by the stage, echoed out over the audience.

I didn't bother correcting her that she had issued the challenge, not I. It was past a point of making any difference, anyway. Trying to buy time to think, I cleared my throat and cracked my knuckles.

The sound, apparently magically amplified, echoed through the theatre. A slow chuckle started, that quickly rose to a roar of laughter. Baffled, I looked down at Trixie to see what she'd done. She was standing with one hoof raised, staring at my interlaced fingers with a poleaxed look on her face. It took me a moment to realize what the joke was. Ponies had no knuckles to crack. And unless poor little four- hoofed Trixie could grow a pair of hands, she was flummoxed. I had beaten her challenge without even trying.

I couldn't help myself. I just couldn't. I held my hands out for her to see. "Here's the church, here's the steeple, open up the doors and---"

"ENOUGH!" Trixie barked, slapping my hands aside with her hoof.

The audience howled.

I looked down in Trixie's face. My dear readers, I tell you; She didn't crack. She didn't break. She shattered, right before my very eyes. Her face went from angry to blistering red with rage to something indescribable. "That's it!" she shrieked. "That's it! I've had it! I've had enough! I'm not putting up with this anymore! The SUN will freeze over before I put up with another minute, another second of this--" She wheeled about and, in an impressive flare of her cape, bolted from the stage.

Panic galvanized me. I leapt forward and managed to seize one of her back hooves as she vanished offstage."Let go of me you furless orangutan!" she yelled.

"Oh no you don't!" I hissed. "There is no way in Chinese Hell you're abandoning me up on this stage--" both our voices were still, unfortunately, magically amplified. The audience obviously thought this was hysterical. I dragged her out from backstage, forcibly picked her up and carried her onstage tucked under my arm, to howls of laughter and, so help me, some scattered applause.

Unfortunately, she was facing the wrong direction. She cursed and kicked, trying to get me to drop her. "Cut that out or I swear I will start taking bits for people to come up here and spank you on the bottom," I said over my shoulder.

"Woohoo!!" a stallion in the audience whooped.

I pointed an accusing finger at him. "you in the back row; put your money away and SIDDOWN!" I shouted in flustered annoyance. Hoots and howls went up.

The pony under my arm went limp, hooves dangling. I was sweating bullets. The crowd was going from boisterous to rowdy. I ad libbed as fast as I could think.  "Okay folks, we had a little fun and thank you all for going along with it. I'm sure Trixie appreciates you all playing along.... Trixie, say something to your audience---" I turned around so everyone could see Trixie's face. Trixie glared at them and made a sound something like "NYeeeeeehhhhhh...."

The howls of laughter had turned to hoots of derision. "...but now she'll be getting back to her regular set and... awp!" Apparently the amusement factor had dried up for the roughnecks in the crowd; what looked like a beer bottle bounced off the invisible field covering the stage not an inch from my head.

"Forget her," some heckler in the back shouted. "She's the worst thing  to ever show in this theater!" The laughter turned to jeers and demands for Trixie to get off the stage. Other objects started flying towards us. Not all of them were stopped by the forcefield.

I spotted a minotaur sitting in the front row. He was good and burly looking, with a thick scar over one eye. Thinking quickly I waved my coin pouch at him. "fifty bits to clear me a path to the door!"

He grinned and stood up, cracking his knuckles. "The Boulder likes you, funny human," he said. "The Boulder calls it a deal!" He turned and started pushing up the aisle, arms spread wide. I dropped off the stage and followed close behind him, Trixie still under my arm.

The projectiles were coming thick and fast now. Whoever was running the damned spotlight was following us with it, making us a nice clear target. The Boulder caught most of them with his sheer bulk, but quite a few were still pelting us hip and thigh... alas for my cleaning bill... And the downside of having the Boulder force a path for us became clear; as well as having large numbers ahead of us we had large numbers of knocked-down, pushed aside, angry individuals in our wake. If we didn't make the door soon we would be surrounded.

Fortunately as we passed under the balcony, help arrived. A shimmering blue field dropped in place behind us, blocking off the rain of debris. A familiar Earth pony guard dropped in front of the Boulder, dispersing the few blocking our path with his authority and, where that failed, brute muscle, while a pegasus hovered overhead, blocking the more irate airborne attendees. Bright Dawn, Hat Trick and Cloudwing were on the job, protecting my stupid behind from its well-deserved consequences. Between the three of them and the Boulder's intimidating form, we reached the lobby and safety unmolested. Not unpelted, but unmolested.

We piled out into the street. Already the music for the next act was starting up, and the folks in Tenpenny theatre were forgetting all about us as another hapless clutch of performers made obeisance to the gods of instant gratification.  Ah, such is fame.

I handed the Boulder fifty bits. "Thank you, Mr. Boulder," I said. "You helped keep that from getting far uglier than it did."

The Boulder counted his money and grinned. "The Boulder is pleased to have contributed to interplanetary relations," he said, flexing, "and the preservation of the performing arts. But now---" he turned, flexing into another pose-- " the Boulder must go." He turned and marched off, ham-thick arms akimbo. Minotaurs. Nice people, generally, but very intense about everything.

I set Trixie down and turned to my bodyguards, shamefaced. "I'm sorry," I said. "I owe all three of you an apology. I was a fool to tell you to leave, even for a moment. If Celestia makes any issue--- no," I sighed, facepalming "WHEN Celestia makes an issue of it, I will take full responsibility."

"Irrelevant, sir," Bright Dawn said. "We did try to stay close but concealed. But we still shouldn't have broken orders."

"As far as I'm concerned you didn't," I said. "Trixie, I---"

But by the time I had turned around, the performing unicorn had already galloped off down the street and was gone.

 

---

 

Celestia was in full plumage as stern royal matriarch. "We are, to say the least, not amused by this situation, Sir Arcturus," she said. "Your bodyguards have been reprimanded for their role in the situation--"

I waved a hand. "Please, your highness, the situation was entirely my fault..."

"Do not interrupt," Celestia said, stone faced. "Yes, you made their jobs difficult with your demands. But the guard regularly deals with troublesome wards; this is why they take their first orders from me, not from their charges. They have grown too lax in executing their duties--- out of friendship rather than sloth or animosity, for which I am glad, but lax all the same. It is our royal decision that they be reprimanded. Not harshly," she said, her face softening slightly, "but reprimanded nonetheless."

"As for you," she said, growing stern again, "it is time you recognized that you are a po-- ahem. a personage of importance and authority, whether you think you deserve it or not, and as such your actions have repercussions for yourself and those under you." I cringed a bit inwardly. She wasn't going to do something like draft me into the guard, or some such alleged character building exercise like that, was she? I wondered--- then felt guilty for my shirking nature in the next moment.

She was about to speak when Luna stepped closer to her side. "Sister, it seems to us that this is a lesson he hath already learned," she said. "His first concern wast the welfare of his guards. And he hath commended this "Boulder" personage for his aid, as well. Perhaps no more is needed. For this instance at least," she said, shooting me a fierce scowl.

"Agreed, sister," Celestia said. To me she said, "Don't look so worried. I'm not about to draft you into the army or anything so daft as that." She rolled her eyes. " Would to the Maker that ponies would find some OTHER means of building character in their sons and daughters than sending them to enlist in my armies...... anyway. Consider the matter settled. I may have to make a decision on... certain matters... in the future. But for now let this matter be closed between us."

"Thank you, your Highnesses," I said.

"For now though, we decree that your personal guard shall be once again increased to proper numbers, and that they are NOT to leave your side for any circumstance.  We shall also rotate out your current roster and bring in new guards." I felt a pang of regret; Cloudwing, Hat Trick and Bright Dawn had become close friends in their time as my bodyguards. "It's foolish anyway to expect an imbalanced trio to handle any real threats, Sir Arcturus," she continued, more kindly. "In a serious attack they would have been overtaxed to protect you on all three fronts. Consider it a way of making the job easier on your friends, when the rotation brings them back into your service."

"How did you hear of the incident so quickly?" I asked.

The stern, formal manner fell off the both of them instantly like the mask it was. The two princesses let out a most unprincessly snicker. "Sir Arthur, nothing travels faster in this kingdom than gossip," Celestia teased. Her horn flashed; a folded tabloid fell out of thin air. I managed to catch it and opened it up. It took me a moment to find it, but there it was....

"Royal Alien Escapes Riot with.... Exotic Dancer???" I yelped. I read with far more focused attention. Below the byline was a horrendously garbled account of my misadventure at the Tenpenny Theater. All told, I believe the jumped-up gossipmonger who wrote the column got approximately five words out of the whole event correct. They even got Trixie's name wrong.

The way it was written, I had slipped my keepers, run off to a sleazy theater of ill repute, and gotten up onstage with a pole dancer named "Pow-Wow Trixie," starting a riot among the clientele.  I had then escaped with the "Pow-Wow Trixie" in tow with the aid of several royal guards and "a hired mercenary named Boulders" and was now under house arrest in the Canterlot palace.

I facepalmed again and looked at the Princesses. "I swear to you this is NOT---" I held my tongue when I saw that the two of them were shaking with mirth, biting their lips to keep from laughing. They lost the fight at seeing my face. The two of them exploded with laughter, clutching their wings to their sides.

Celestia finally gasped for air and wiped her eyes with a wing. "We know, we know, Arthur" she assured me. "We have far better sources than the press. What sort of rulers would we be if we depended on the newspapers for our information?"

I recalled with some irony a certain President who had presided over my home country in wartime. The press had tried to make an outrageous scandal of it when he had mentioned that he didn't bother reading the newspapers or watching news shows. It never occurred to the dullards who accused him of being horribly uninformed that he was the President of the United States, and was not only MAKING the news, but probably had more information on events as they happened than the entire media industry had by the time they rolled the morning paper.

"Methinks this is half the reason thou goest so lightly with him, sister," Luna said, amused. "Because his antics give the foolscap writers something to bide their attention other than thyself."

"True enough," Celestia sighed. "So, as your first official lesson in high statesmanship--- tell me, how do you intend to deal with this?"

I shrugged and pocketed the paper. "By ignoring it, generally," I said with disgust. " There's always going to be some semi-literate fool working for a newspaper who takes shortcuts with the truth. Paying them any more attention than they deserves only gives them more credibility than they deserve."

"Ah," Celestia said. "A feasible strategy."

"Though I won't rule out shooting them in the rump with a slingshot from the castle tower..."

 

---

 

Tacky story or no tacky story, I decided to maintain my usual routine. I had taken to perambulating about the roads and shops close by the palace, and I reasoned that altering my habits would only lend to the gossipmongers' sillier speculations. So I kept up my constitutionals... though I now had a sextet of stern-faced, unfamiliar guards around me at all times.

There was a small cafe nearby that I frequented. It was quiet, unprepossessing, and had good sandwiches and drinks at reasonable prices. Personal experience from Earth had taught me the dismal lesson early that if something of high quality was within my reach and budget, it was probably going out of business, so I did my best to frequent this little place as often as I could before the inevitable tragic loss.

I stepped inside a few days after the incident, my plainclothes bodyguards taking "discreet" positions at the door and around the room, and who should I see at one of the tables but the Great and Powerful Trixie. Her back was turned to me, her substandard cape and hat draped over the back of her chair. She was slumped forward, her chin resting on her hooves, nursing a large cherry phosphate through a bendy straw.

Fresh guilt panged me. Here was yet another pony's life I had disrupted. I walked over quietly and stepped around to where she could see me before pulling up a chair. "This spot taken?" I asked rhetorically, taking a seat across from her. I could get a clear look at her now. She looked--- worn. Not quite haggard, but there were lines under her eyes. She gave me a glower. "Ah, the great and mighty Human again," she muttered. "back to finish the job?"

"Finish the job?" I repeated. Without moving from her spot, Trixie used her magic to slap a fresh copy of the day's paper in front of me. "Alien Ambassador Falls Afoul of Traveling Huxter," the headline blared. I picked it open and read it, wincing. Certain words and phrases were highlighted with Trixie's trademark glow. I read them, muttering them aloud:  "traveling bunko artist", "responsible for ursa major attack 3 years ago" (ahh, classic media reliability and accuracy), "overrepresented herself..." "described as high maintenance and troublesome by theatre manager"....

"That last one was because I demanded the bit-pinching crook actually pay me on time," she growled. "I went two days without eating once because his 'paperwork was delayed.' "She took a slurp of her cherry phosphate. "And this soda is the last of my 'excessive and grandiose salary,' as he put it."

"He fired you...?" I said.

"Of course he fired me, you bald baboon's behind!" She shouted, slamming both her forehooves down on the table and leaning across it. My bodyguards twitched, but stayed put, glaring. She either didn't notice or didn't care. She glared at me from an inch away, teeth clenched. "He threw my last pay in my face and then threw me out into the street! And by now he's put out the word to every scumbag and skinflint theatre manager from here to Hoofington that I'm an invitation to calamity! I won't be able to get a gig anywhere in Equestria, thanks to you!!"

My egotistical temper, far too short those days, instantly flared. I was winding up and getting ready to blast her with both barrels when she suddenly stopped glaring at me, screwed her eyes shut and started crying. High pitched sobs shook her frame as she sagged down onto the table, tears leaking everywhere.

There's an old Indian saying that "tears are a woman's warpaint."  Wasn't that the truth. No matter how right you are and how wrong she is, the minute a woman you're fighting with starts crying you might as well give up, lie down, and DIE. My anger deflated like an untied balloon. I just sat there dumbly while the Great and Powerful Trixie bawled, my anger turned to humiliating guilt in an instant. "It's been-- two-- YEARS-- and-- just when-- I think-- ponies--- finally forget-- Just when-- I start-- getting-- my hooves-- under me again---" she hiccuped.

Wordlessly I handed her my handkerchief. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and proffered it back to me. I waved for her to keep it (all the while my inner brony was estimating how much I could have auctioned that handkerchief for on Ebay.) "I am sorry, Trixie," I said wearily. "But I doubt there was much I could have done to make anything turn out differently."

Trixie sighed and sniffed. "Oh, who am I kidding," she said quietly, her cheek resting on the table. "That gig was bound to turn out the way it did. They always do, anymore. I've been on the skids since long before Ponyville..." She sat up and wiped her eyes.

"Tell me about Ponyville," I said.

Trixie scowled at me. "I thought you were 'the watcher from beyond,' " she pointed out. " Don't you already know? Besides, what do you care?"

I took a moment to order my usual; a tall soda water with a touch of lemon. I scratched my beard as I thought. "Let's just say I want to hear it straight from the horse's mouth," I said. " I saw what happened, yes. A twenty two minute summary of it, at least. I want to know more. I want to know: why all the bragging? Why all the lying? Why the mean pranks on your own audience? Even back on Earth, it seemed to me that approach was... counterproductive. I want to know the full story." My drink arrived. I took a sip. "Indulge me."

Trixie sighed "fine," she said. " I'll tell you all about Ponyville. But there are some things you have to understand first, human. Things about being a showpony, and a unicorn. "

"such as?"

She pointed to her hip with one hoof. "Tell me, what does my cutie mark look like?"

"A wand...?" I said. "And this is relevant because....?"

"My talent is magic. Or it should be. I know dozens of tricks, maybe even hundreds, but they're all just tricks." she glowered at me. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be a grown unicorn mare whose talent is showboating parlor tricks?"

"It was easy at first, after I got my cutie mark. I learned trick after trick after trick, and performed them whenever I could. Ponies, even my parents, thought I was a child prodigy.  And everyone's enchanted by a little filly who can do all sorts of flashy stunts, so it was easy to thrill an audience. I fell in love with the stage, with the dazzle and the applause...." she sighed.

"But as I grew up I found out ponies got a lot harder to please. Praise for being a wunderkind dried up. When I failed the entrance exam for the School for Talented Unicorns, my relationship with my parents... went sour. When I finally struck out on my own as a traveling entertainer, the first thing I found out that was, no matter what kind of routine I did, there was always, ALWAYS somepony in the audience who was better at whatever I was doing at the moment, or at least thought they were. And the next thing I learned was that if you can't squash a heckler, you're doomed in showbiz.

"And everywhere I went with my show, there were hecklers."

"All the time ponies were challenging me, trying to upstage me in my own show... and soon my whole routine revolved around bashing hecklers. It didn't matter that they were a one-trick pony and I was skilled at a hundred, if I couldn't beat them at that one trick of theirs I was a fraud. I couldn't do a birthday party or cuteceneara  without some colt or filly challenging me.

She pointed a hoof at my hands. "Do you realize those idiots at Tenpenny Theatre actually expected me to somehow do that.... joint-poppy... thing you did with your fingers?"

"Every show, every performance was a contest. Every audience was an enemy." her face fell. "I got to the point where I HATED my audience." A tear trickled down her face, she stubbornly wiped it away with the back of her hoof.

"I have to point out that you seemed to be asking for it," I said gently. "What with the whole 'Great and Powerful' shtick, and the... fabrications about your feats..."

Trixie snorted and leaned across the table to poke me in the chest. "Are you joking? Get one thing straight, human; maybe you haven't noticed but nopony respects a unicorn for her magical versatility or style, only for her sheer power. How MUCH she can do, not how well she can do it." She waved her hoof over her head and rolled her eyes. "I mean, we're ruled by a Princess whose sole qualification for taking the throne was her ability to raise the sun single-hoofed!"

I reluctantly nodded; this meshed painfully well with what I'd seen already. I recalled Twilight Sparkle's entrance exam for the School for Gifted Unicorns; they didn't test her knowledge or her skillsets, they just made her try to hatch a magically resistant egg. Seen from that perspective it was like making someone apply for Harvard based on how much they could bench press.

"Besides which, you said it yourself-- it was a shtick. Everypony in entertainment needs one. They have to get up on a stand and shout out a bunch of humbug about how fabulous, how amazing, how magnificent their show is---"

"The greatest show on earth," I said. "I get your point."

Her ears drooped. "I'm... not very proud of lying about the Ursa Major," she said. "But great flipping Celestia, I never thought anyone would be such a corn pone as to sincerely believe it! That's why I picked a story so ridiculous for my humbug, why I picked a creature so exotic and rare..." she shook her head.

I grunted. I'd have to give her slack on that one. Ask some soul about P.T. Barnum sometime; at one time people understood that entertainers were entertainers, and that tall tales and bunkum were all part of the show and not to be taken seriously. By my generation, though, we were all such a bunch of hyper-emotional ninnies that we threw away our Milli Vanilli records when we found out that the "great music" inside wasn't actually sung by the two black men on the cover....

"But I'm getting off track, aren't I?" she said dryly, sipping at her drink. "You wanted to hear about Ponyville.

"Not really much to tell, though. I rolled my wagon into this little town about midday and set up for my show. Fireworks, fanfare, the usual. I'm pumping the crowd up for the show, and I'm not even through my opening patter when some rainbow-maned buffoon starts BOOING me." She scowled. "How charming of the townsfolk. Most ponies at least waited till I started the actual show to tell me I sucked." I chuckled.

"Anyway, there's this bunch right in the front row. A couple of unicorns, an earth pony, the pegasus, and a baby dragon. And they're all commenting at the top of their lungs about how egotistical and stuck up I was and how I was "tooting my own horn..." I swear, you'd think none of them had ever seen a traveling show before. I was already in a bad mood and that set me off. I went straight to the heckler challenge."

She snorted again. "All that talk about how I was a vain show-off, but my oh my weren't they eager to get up on the stage themselves--!"

"The baby dragon is egging them all on. The first one up is a farm girl with a twang in her voice like a banjo. She starts doing a pretty impressive rope-trick routine... would've held most audiences for at least a minute or two. While she's jumping around I use a rope-tying spell to truss her up in her own lasso. The audience laughs, I figure that's the end of it-- noone's going to try to upstage me after THAT!

But no, here comes the rainbow colored one. Typical pegasus jock; she tries to show me up with flying stunts. I wonder what she does in her spare time, challenge legless ponies to hoof races?

"I turned her own weather manipulating stunt against her, wrapped her up in a miniature tornado... when she finally comes out she's green as grass and, thank Celestia, not giving me any more trouble. I give her a lightning bolt to the rump and chase her off.

"Then here comes a THIRD one! Three of them, right in a row! I can't believe it! I'm just trying to make a living and these ponies are trying to run roughshod over me! It's the unicorn this time." Trixie seemed to seethe a bit. "Some vain, over-made-up town princess.....She gets up onstage, waving her lily-white derriere at everyone, and starts giving me a lecture about class and style... all the while she's turning one of my curtains into a fancy dress and glamming it up on my stage.

"Dreadful fake accent, too. I could hear the Maneasota accent under her fake Canterlot one, clear as day," she said drolly. I nearly choked on my soda.

"I was fed up by that point. I just did the meanest thing I could think of..."

"turned her hair green," I said.

"Pond scum green," Trixie corrected. "With twigs sticking out of it. She ran off in hysterics... and blast it if that little purple lizard wasn't goading ANOTHER pony into trying to show me up!" Trixie banged her head on the table at the memory. "Purple unicorn filly. Thank Celestia, she at least had the decency to refuse to be goaded." Trixie sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Why can't anypony have some blasted manners like that anymore?"

"the rest of the show went off without a hitch... except for two foals who kept hanging around."

"Snips and Snails... you were rather, well-- inconsiderate to them, especially as they were fans."

Trixie rolled her eyes. "I know, I was doing it on purpose. I was trying to get them to go away! They were so obsessed with me it was creepy.

        "And star-struck foals are so much trouble," she went on. "I almost got lynched once because some filly with dreams of running off and being a showmare sneaked aboard my wagon, and I didn't find her till I was five miles out of town!

"Nothing I did seemed to get them to go away, either, so I finally just ignored them." Her face crumpled in disgust. "I might have kept a closer eye on them if I had known they were going to sic a giant freaking bear on me. I get woken up in the middle of the night, and the next thing I know I'm running screaming for my life because my brain-damaged "fans" have lured an URSA into town! The mind boggles, Arcturus. How can anyone be that suicidally stupid?"

"When I was five, my cousin and I went bear hunting armed with a switch,"(1)  I said idly. "It's easy to forget just how irrational kids can be."

Trixie sighed and rubbed her forehead again. "I know, they were only foals... I think they might have even been, well, mentally challenged." I grinned but said nothing. "But still... what they did.... ugh.

" The thing smashed my caravan---" she stopped and choked up a bit, obviously thinking of all her lost possessions. "stepped on it and crushed it flat. Then it cornered us. I tried to use magic to scare the beast off... I might as well have been flicking spitwads at it. I thought for sure I was going to be eaten, and those two poor retarded colts with me."

"Thank the Maker that purple unicorn was there. She saved our lives, and the whole town. She cast a musical spell that calmed the Ursa, fed it milk, and levitated it out of town and into the Everfree. Yes, milk. Would you believe the thing was a baby?" she said with a flourish. She'd apparently forgotten the whole "watcher from beyond" issue in the thrill of telling the story.

"You don't hold any resentment towards her for upstaging you?"

"Resent her? Why would I resent her?" Trixie chuffed. "She saved my life! I was just grateful she hadn't humiliated me in my own show." She cocked an eyebrow. "I actually felt sorry for her when I thought about it. I couldn't understand what she was doing in that podunk little town with all that power and talent... I would have thought that the School for Gifted Unicorns would have snapped her up, or the royal mages' fellowship even...."

"Anyway, a mob started gathering. I knew which way this wind was going to blow-- I was going to be blamed for the whole thing, probably thrown in jail and forced to pay for the damages, maybe even tarred and feathered..... Don't look so skeptical, human-- it happens all the time to itinerants like me. I had a friend who was shaved bald and rode out on a rail because he had the misfortune to arrive in town the same day a parasprite outbreak did." She pantomimed a raging villager. " 'A disaster has happened! Who's to blame? There's a stranger in town! we'll pool our three communal braincells and blame him! Let's get him, Arrrrrrrr..."

"I yelled something--- I forget what, I was so addled--- threw a smokebomb, and ran for my life." her chin crumpled a little. "I didn't have anything. Not my caravan, not my props or my books, not my groucho bag(2), not even my hat and robe..."

"And things just kept going downhill. By the time I got to the next town, news of the story was already there. I find out that the hecklers I'd embarrassed, and their friend the purple unicorn, were Bearers of the Elements of Harmony!" she made quote marks in the air. " 'Fraud magician causes Ursa attack,'  'Twilight and Bearers of Elements save town from fake magician's blunder.' It was all over Equestria that I was a blowhard and a fraud. No town would let me in to perform, no stage manager would hire me. It was nearly a year before I could even get a gig doing a filly's birthday party."

"The rest, you obviously know. The work at Tenpenny Theatre was crap, all I was there for was target practice for the people throwing tomatoes. I was trying to save up enough to buy a wagon, get back on the circuit...." her face fell. "Not that it matters now. It's all but cast in concrete that The Great and Powerful Trixie is a liar, a buffoon and a fraud."

She cast her eyes down. "I'm... sorry I blamed you," she said. "I earned my foalish reputation one bad gig at a time. And now it looks like I'm washed up for good." A tear splashed on the tabletop. "I used to love making ponies smile and applaud. What ever happened to that?"

I sat back and regarded the pony in front of me. I would have some pointed questions to ask my friends in Ponyville, but I had the feeling the general gist of the story was true. I was looking at a pony who was, all but literally, born in the wrong time and place. She hadn't been able to live up to her own cutie mark since she was a filly, because her "special gift" was utterly unappreciated. She was a stage magician in a world where real magic was as common as dirt, and she had spent her whole life being a mendacious blowhard, punching above her weight, to compensate for it.

Could I help her? Should I?

I looked at the pale blue pony crying into her cherry soda and sighed. As if I could do anything else...

"Trixie," I said. "If I could offer you my help, would you take it?"

I saw surprise on her face, followed by hope. But she hesitated, Pride warring with need behind her eyes. "I suppose I would," she finally said, shamefaced. "The not so Great and Powerful Trixie doesn't have too many options. But... what sort of help can you offer?"

 

---

 

"Wait a minute, you want us to help HER?" Rainbow Dash was incredulous. "She doesn't deserve anybody's help!"

"Then it's a good thing indeed, Rainbow Dash, that we do not reserve help only for those that deserve it," I said with some acidity, "Else both our worlds would be in far sorrier shape than they already are."

The mane 6 and I were gathered together at the Ponyville library. I had need of co-conspirators in my plans, and it seemed somehow appropriate to include the representations of Equestrian harmony in venture. Plus I do confess some baser desire to bring things full circle... after hearing Trixie's side of the tale I felt I had a... call it a Brony's obligation to bring everyone in for a full accounting.

To that end I had, with the Princess's permission, taken a little weekend trip to Ponyville and talked the others into a little pow-wow at the library over cookies and tea, where I revealed my intentions... to a less than receptive audience.

"Still, Arthur," Twilight Sparkle said. "Trixie's... just a random showpony. Why do you feel so motivated to help her?"

"Because I felt sorry for her," I said, my eyebrows raised. "What is so complicated about that?"

"You ask me, she got what she deserved," Rainbow Dash snarked from the rafters. "Anything that happened is on her own head."

" I hate to sound spiteful, but I agree with Rainbow Dash about that," Rarity sniffed, nibbling at a cookie. "One reaps what one sows..."

"Yep. She came swaggering into town, braggin' and boastin' and lyin', and got what she deserved," Applejack said.

I felt my temper leap up like a gaslight. "And what would that be, Applejack?" I said. "To have her reputation smeared? To have her home destroyed?" Applejack looked taken aback. "Yes, Applejack, that wagon was her home, and also her livelihood. That's a mighty steep penalty to pay for telling tall tales, wouldn't you say?"

Applejack bridled, but it was Rainbow Dash who retorted. "Hey, she was more than that." She crossed her forelimbs." she was a big bragging... bragger!"

"Never seen one of THOSE in Ponyville," I shot back coolly. A couple of ponies snickered.

Rainbow Dash turned red. "Hey, she was a LIAR! and a JERK!"

I managed to rein in my combative nature. These ponies weren't the enemy, I reminded myself. There was no enemy here. I took a deep breath and composed myself. "Rainbow Dash, did you or did you NOT heckle and boo her at her own show?" I demanded.

Dash muttered a bit. "Well yeah, but--"

"But nothing. the lot of you--- I'M INCLUDING YOU TOO, SPIKE," I said over my shoulder. There was a clatter of dishes being fumbled, but no verbal response. "The lot of you," I continued looking at the others,  "stood around while her show was going on, chatting up about how arrogant and egotistical she was, even outright booing her for it." I leaned forward and looked at them accusingly." But I'll note that when she offered her challenge the three of you just about raced each other to get in the spotlight and show her up." Rarity in particular blushed at that one. I sat back. "Trixie has her own problems, but I swear you lot seem to have a terminal case of Tall Poppy Syndrome."

A couple of them looked confused, but a few, Twilight in particular, understood. "Now really, that's just a little too far, Arthur--"

"Oh really? Miss Mare Do Well?" Twilight flinched a little. Apparently she'd had a few second thoughts over the years about that particular brilliant little plan. "you got mad at Rainbow Dash for getting an ego and showboating her heroics, so you dressed up in garish costumes--"

"Garish??" Rarity said, offended.

"BRIGHT PURPLE is GARISH, Rarity. You dressed up in garish costumes and hogged the spotlight for yourselves to 'put her in her place.' " A few of them made faces that suggested they hadn't seen it from that angle before. And to judge by the painful expression on Rainbow Dash's face, reconciliation afterward hadn't been as easy or as smooth as the cartoon show had suggested.

"Or how about the Young Flier's Competition? You get a pair of wings and ten seconds later you're trying to upstage Rainbow Dash in her own performance." Rarity bit her lip and looked askance.  "Then there's Winter Wrap Up--- you were more concerned with making sure that fancy new unicorn didn't use any of her fancy magic than you were with getting the job done on time."

Applejack glowered. "Now that there is tradition, and tradition is--"

"--A guide for the wise, and a rule for fools," I snapped. "The prosecution rests." I sighed and sat back, scooting to get in a more comfortable position. "Tall Poppy Syndrome: that petty impulse to cut down anyone that sticks up too far... whether they deserve it or not.. It's bad anywhere, but it seems to really crop up in small towns. It's just selfish pride, turned inside out. You can have it and not know it. And you lot had it bad. When Trixie rolled into town, the weed whackers came out. You harassed her, got humiliated for it, and then stood around gloating when she "got what was coming to her."

"Oh this is baloney," Rainbow Dash said. "C'mon, Twi, AJ, Rarity, YOU saw what she was like... Fluttershy, Pinkie, if YOU saw somepony acting like that you'd think they got what they deserved too."

Fluttershy rubbed her forehooves together. "Um... actually...." Everyone got quiet to hear what she had to say. Even the noises from the kitchen got quiet. "Trixie didn't sound like a very nice pony...." Dash looked smug. There, you see? "But what you did to her doesn't seem very nice, either.. I mean, when I was a model... I didn't enjoy it, but I can't imagine how much more awful it would be with ponies yelling mean things at me..."

"Darling, she turned my hair green," Rarity glowered.

"Well yeah, it was kinda mean. I mean it was mean what she did to you all, but didn't you all start it?" Pinkie Pie pointed out. Ouch, and the nail is struck square on the head.

"Well... maybe..." Applejack said reluctantly. "Ah guess ah kin see how somepony could... see it from that angle...yeah. You got us there, Pinkie. "

I saw the opening and decided to dig the knife in. "Coincidentally, Twilight, did you do anything with her belongings? What was left of them, that is.... did you try and ship them to her or...?"

Ohhh, the guilt. "Nnno, we didn't," she said. "I had Snips and Snails clean up the wreckage, and whatever wasn't completely smashed, we... um, chucked in a closet at City Hall."

"Well, I obviously know where she is now... so giving her back her worldly possessions might be a start."

Twilight nodded. "And  it's the right thing to do, regardless, " she admitted. "But really, Arthur. Why are you so adamant about helping her?"

"What, no clinical interest on your part?" I teased. "One would think you could get a research paper at least out of it. I mean, she's probably the longest running case of Cutie Mark Failure Syndrome in Equestria..."

"What?" several ponies exclaimed.

"She gave it away herself," I said. "Twilight, her cutie mark is a wand. A stage prop. Unicorns don't use wands. Her talent isn't magic, it's stage magic. Magic tricks done for entertaining an audience.... in a world where nearly every audience is made up of magicians."

"So?" Dash demanded.

"Let me put it this way, Rainbow Dash. What would you say is your greatest achievement ever?"

"Oh that's easy-- my Sonic Rainboom," Dash said smugly.

"Tell me, then; how well do you think you'd do in a world where everybody, even the turtles, can do a Sonic Rainboom?"

"Ooooerrrr," Rainbow Dash said, grimacing. For the first time I saw some sympathy on her face.

"Trixie has no real marketable magic talent--not by Equestrian standards," I said. "She's got a huge library of tricks and one-off stunts she's always adding to, but her magical power plateaued years ago. She hasn't been able to hold an audience just with her talent since she was a filly. And dealing constantly with hecklers, scoffers and boobs-- the sort who only seem to attend performances to get rid of their old tomatoes, or to try and draw attention to themselves-- has made her have to play a role--- "the great and powerful Trixie", just to get from town to town. She's been punching above her weight class for years, and she knows it. If she hasn't got CMFS, she's a thread away from getting it."

"She's a performer who fell out of love with her audience. What she needs more than anything is to fall back IN love with it; to hear ponies genuinely applaud her again, to love her and her love them back. Once she has that, she can break free of that CMFS and be happy again. I don't know what sort of personality is under that vain, prideful little shell, but I'm just dying to find out."

Spike came toddling in with a fresh plate of cookies. "well, that's great," he said, "But how are you gonna help her?"

I picked up a large cookie--- ah, chocolate chip!--- and noshed. "I've already started," I said between bites. "I'm her new manager."

"What??" I was growing to love that little chorus.

"Well, manager slash handler," I said. "I've used my ridiculous influence to get her a few gigs around Canterlot. Nothing really big, but far better than that Tenpenny dive.  I've also helped her update her routine a bit. The Humanities library had a few books on stage tricks and parlor magic, biographies about famous human stage illusionists, that sort of thing... and you'll remember that letter I sent you a while ago, Twilight--- the one asking you for a list of things impossible or incredibly difficult to do with magic?"

"Yes," Twilight said. "Was this what you needed it for?... But how does that help Trixie?"

Like I told you, Trixie's talent isn't magic; her talent is showmanship. The old Razzle Dazzle. She's incredibly versatile, but so are most human 'magicians'." I made a flourish with one hand and produced a ping pong ball. Then I turned it from one into two, then three, then four, then vanished them all. The gasps of surprise made the weeks of practice worth it. "A considerable number of her effects were already gimmicks or sleight-of-hand, like what I just did." I reproduced the ball and gave it to Twilight to examine. "er, Sleight of hoof, I suppose....that she had worked out for herself. She was ashamed when I discovered that. She thought it was 'cheating.' " I chuckled. "Cheating!"

"That's why she wore the hat, by the way. It hid when she was, and when she wasn't, using her magic to do something.

"Heh, slick," Dash said.

I chuckled. " Anyway, between your list and some creative mixes of real and 'human' magic, we've worked up some stage illusions that have your old professors scratching their heads."

 

"Well that's cool. But what'd you do for her personality?" Spike snarked.

I grinned all the more. "Did I ever tell you ponies about William Shatner?" I asked, putting my hands behind my head. "Human actor, quite famous. Got his big break on a television show called "Star Trek." It was fairly popular while it was on the air.... He played the lead character, Captain Kirk, of the star ship Enterprise." I gave a fake little salute."Anyway, his career sort of hit a snag after the show ended. Some of his former co-stars gave interviews and wrote books about their time on the cast, and some were quite bitter. Described Shatner as a hack actor--- he kind of was, really--- and as a raging egocentric jerk and blowhard. It pretty well looked like Shatner's reputation, maybe even his career, was shot.

"Then he did an absolutely mind boggling thing." I chuckled. "He made it work for him."

"He, well, he basically began playing a parody of himself. Egotist, bad actor, bad singer, blowhard... whether it was an interview or a TV show or a movie or a live appearance, he was onstage all the time, playing William Shatner the Ham Actor, and he did it all with a smile and a sly wink. His enemies wanted to make him a laughingstock? Fine, he'd be a laughingstock-- and let the whole world know he was in on the joke.

"Trixie was in the same boat. She'd gotten a reputation she couldn't shake; the vain, arrogant, incompetent liar, the Great and Powerful Trixie. I simply told her to stop trying to shake it, and double down instead."

"Are you tellin' us you told her t' be even worse than she was??" Applejack asked in disbelief. By way of an answer, I pulled a sheaf of papers out of my pocket and tossed them on the coffee table. They were newspaper clippings, neatly stacked and labeled. a couple had pictures; The Great and Powerful Trixie, in an extra large hat and billowing cape, looking more outrageously flamboyant than ever.  "critic reviews," I said. They picked them up and read them.

"New stage performer wows theater goers...."

"The main performance that night was Adagio, but the true highlight of the evening was the warmup performance by The Great and Powerful Trixie..."

"Dazzled the audience with baffling illusions even as she had them rolling in the aisles with her over-the-top "Great and Powerful Trixie" persona...."

"her hysterical stories included her epic saga of her battle with a Grassy Knoll and her slaying of the deadly Flying Buttress..."

"...At one point claimed to have beaten Nightmare Moon in a watermelon seed spitting contest..."

" 'You have angered the Gazebo;' quirky and entertaining show by up-and-comer Trixie the Magician...."

"Well, ah'll be dipped," Applejack said.

"I'd say it seems to be working," Twilight said, amused. "But where do we fit into this?"

"Yes, it seems that she's well on her way already," Rarity said. "How would we help?"

I chose my words carefully. "Yes, she is on her way," I said. "But before she goes anywhere, there are a few things she still has to put behind her...."

 

---

 

The caped unicorn mare dashed across the makeshift stage from one Victrola to the other. "Who dares to try to upstage the Great and Powerful Trixie with her tacky music?" She stuck her face into the bell of the player. "Reveal yourself, tiny songstress!" She pulled her head back out. "Confound her, she flees again! I shall not be so easily thwarted! HAha!" She whipped a fire extinguisher literally out of nowhere and emptied it into the bell of the gramophone--- only to be "snowed" as white foam shot out of the mouth of the one behind her.

The foals seated round the floor laughed fit to burst. For a while I was afraid that the nurses stationed round the room would have to spend the day re-mending burst sutures. Trixie's "Gramophone portal" routine was obviously a hit. As the victrolas played an aria from a popular opera, Trixie would run from one to the other, attempting to evict her "competition", the "tiny singing opera woman" from the gramophones by cramming, pouring or even shooting various things down one audio horn, only to have it come out the other--- generally to her own detriment. The gag was repeated with watering cans, a rope (she ended up in a tug of war with herself), a ribbon tied on the end of a stick, a jet of bubbles, and finally a shower of colored firework sparks. The foals "oohed" and "aaahed" and laughed themselves sick.

The children's ward was still echoing with applause when Trixie finally came 'backstage.' There was a spring in her gait that I hadn't seen before, and she was grinning ear to ear. She all but skidded to a stop when she saw all of us--- myself, Spike, and the mane six-- standing there waiting for her. She quickly regained her composure, smoothed out her cape and hat, and walked over to join us, her face carefully neutral.

This is it, I thought. The acid test.

She stopped in front of the girls and sighed. "I see Mr. Arcturus brought you all here like I asked," she said. Her pose was stiff and formal, with her chin held up. "I knew I'd most likely run into you all coming here, and I didn't want it to happen in some random corner of town. And yes, the mayor knows I'm here, so there's no need to run off and sound the alarm," she added, giving Rainbow Dash the eye.

Trixie hesitated. "Truthfully... I wasn't certain until now what exactly I wanted to say.

"I won't apologize to you for how I did my show back then. I'm a showmare," she said pointedly. "It's my job to brag and boast and show off. And yes, to tell ponies a bunch of balderdash, if that's what it takes to entertain them. And I'm certainly not sorry for taking the mickey out of a bunch of hecklers." The mane six said nothing, though some of them looked chagrined.

Trixie looked aside. "What I am sorry for is taking it too far. After all this time of bad audiences and people taking cheap shots, I'd gotten to a point where I was taking cheap shots first--- get them before they could get me. I was being mean and arrogant and spiteful, even to people who were my fans... and I'll be apologizing to them later too. I hurt you, and I hope you will accept my apology."

Rarity, Applejack and Rainbow Dash looked at one another. "Ah think we kin do that," Applejack said sheepishly. I think she was remembering how I needled them for being so eager to one-up a stranger. "we may've crossed a line 'r two ourselves."

"Yeah..." Rainbow Dash said. "okay.. but only 'cause you apologized first." she crossed her forelegs defiantly.

"And here I thought you wanted to be first in everything," I quipped.

"Oh, Ha, ha," Dash said.

Rarity took a step forward. The atmosphere got a tad chillier. Two prima donnas within twenty feet of each other can have that effect. The two of them regarded each other, chins tipped up, frost and icicles practically hanging in the air between them.

"I... suppose it would be ungracious to not accept your apology," she said, tossing her forelock. "Even if I did have to spend three days trying every dye I owned to get my mane back to its proper color...."

Trixie cocked an eyebrow. "What? Oh dearie," she all but purred, "didn't you try to dispel it? It was just an illusion, after all. It would have worn off within the hour."

"WhaaaAAT?" Rarity squawked. "You mean... all that... and those dyes and rinses... and root damage and..." the contortions the fashionista's face went through were indescribable. Oh dear. I suppose there are just some personalities that are going to clash, no matter how contrite.

The others, especially Applejack, were getting far too much amusement out of Rarity's discomfiture.

Trixie relented, just a little. "Stay calm, dear, your mane looks just fine now either way," she said, patting Rarity on the shoulder. Rarity petted her indigo locks and looked sulky.

Twilight stepped up. "I'm glad you wanted to reconcile..personal abrasions aside," she said, giving Rarity an amused glance. "And we do have some good news for you." Trixie looked curious. Twilight opened her saddlebag and withdrew a bundle of cloth, floating it over to the showmare. Trixie took it. It unfolded in her magical grasp to reveal a familiar star-spangled hat and cloak. "My hat and cloak!" Trixie squealed, grabbing them up and cuddling them to her chest like a long-lost dolly. Tears squeezed out of the corners of her eyes. The smile on her face was sheer bliss.

"We managed to save some of your belongings from your old wagon," Twilight continued. "They're boxed up and waiting for you to pick them up."

Trixie didn't seem to be paying attention. The cloak and hat were faded and obviously re-stitched. They weren't a touch on the flamboyant and glitter-spangled ones she now wore. but she handled them as if they were woven of silk and coated with diamonds. "This... these were the last thing my mother made for me, before I left home," she sniffled."I thought they were lost forever. Thank you so much..."

"We also had a word with the mayor," I said. "She agreed--- albeit reluctantly-- that you weren't legally responsible for the Ursa attack, and that you should be compensated for the loss of your caravan."

"What? You mean--- Oh no," Trixie suddenly scowled. "The Great and Powerful Trixie is not going to stoop to... to suing the families of those two mentally challenged colts---" she stopped in confusion at the outburst of laughter around her. "What?"

"Sugarcube, those colts got issues, but 'challenged' they ain't," Applejack said. "One of 'em is just too clever for his own good, and the other's a candidate for the Gifted School for Unicorns-- on an academic scholarship!"

"Those two?" Trixie's skepticism was as thick as cold porridge.

"They're like most foals," Fluttershy said. "They just tend to not think ahead of themselves."

"Knowledge is the propulsion, Wisdom is the steering," I said. "Snips and Snails? ...well... "

"Picture a lawn chair duct taped to the nose of a skyrocket...." Rainbow Dash said.

 

"Still..." Trixie said. "They're just foals--"

Twilight shook her head. "Ponyville has a fund set aside for Calamities and Disasters," she said. "To cover the cost of rebuilding after something major happens."

"Why would a sleepy little town need---" Trixie began.

Applejack cut her off. "Parasprite attack," she said.

"Cerberus," Twilight said.

"Rampaging dragon," Fluttershy said. Spike gulped and ducked out of sight.  "Two, if you count the one on the mountain... but really, that one was more of a Smog problem...um..."

"Baked Bads outbreak," Pinkie Pie added. "oh yeah, and two stampedes. One with cows, the other with rabbits."

"You... DO live dangerously, don't you," Trixie said, bemused.

"You have no idea," Twilight deadpanned.

"Anyway, we had a discussion with the Mayor. And your... wagon...." Rarity waved a hoof, "was covered under the policy. The mayor cut you a check..."

Trixie's squeal of glee drowned out anything else that was said.

 

---

 

1)True story.

2)A groucho bag was a money bag, worn on a thong under the clothes. It was how vaudeville performers kept from being robbed by other showpeople. It's also how Groucho Marx got his name--- he wore the groucho bag and carried all the money for his brothers.