You remind me of a former love that I once knew

-Panic at the Disco, I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

Marlon set his clock for 6 and paused, sitting up on the bed.  He stared at the soft glow of the ancient, mahogany lamp on his endtable.  He pondered the concept of "forever."  Such deep thoughts rarely entered his head this late at night, but he remembered what Celestia had said earlier about Luna.  He thought about the actual possibility of free sex for life.  He envisioned himself as an older man, continuing to have nightly, super-freaky sex as he had done for the past thirty years.  His only fear was that it would eventually become boring, but he alleviated the mental pressure with, But she's got magic.  She can mix stuff up with infinite possibilities.  Marlon wrote about it in his journal.

The pen was grey again.

Mere minutes after he closed his eyes, he felt a hot breeze hit his face and chest.  He opened them to a scene that began as a deep blue, but gained color over the next several seconds.

He was behind the wheel of a car-an ancient, yet shiny-new red convertible, similar to the one from Fear and Loathing.  He was pulled over on the shoulder of Route 28, which he remembered from past trips to Virginia.  The sky was a cloudless blue, and another hot breeze indicated springtime.  He looked to his left to see a Costco and a hotel through a group of trees on the side of the highway.  The car was stopped just in front of the bridge that passed over Route 50; the old plantation lay beyond.  The only surreal part of the scene was that he was the only one here.  At this time of day-noon, by the angle of the sun-this road would be jammed up the ass with traffic.

Marlon felt a hand-not a hoof-rest on his white t-shirted shoulder.

"You OK, sweetie(ss)?" a voice said.  He turned to his right to see a long-gone figure in his passenger seat-his old girlfriend, Amy.  Everything about her was the same-her deep-blue hair that only reached her shoulders-a style typical of French women, matching accent, brown riding boots, leather jacket, thin blue jeans, and her ever-present sunglasses.  They were circular like Lennon's, and their deep-black shade kept her pretty, grey eyes invisible.  Her face resembled a doll's-small nose, thin mouth, and smooth cheeks.  She was one-in-a-million, and completely out of place.  Born Aurelie, a French farm-girl (a few months younger than Marlon) who adopted the style of a British Rocker and moved to the U.S. at fourteen.  Went by "Amy" to better fit in with the kids at school.  Began to date Richard Marlon at eighteen.  Let him fuck her at eighteen-and-a-half.  Moved into an apartment with him at twenty-two.  Hit by an Acela at twenty-three.  Marlon had not been there to see it happen, but the newspaper told that she had been on "all four tracks at once."  That was the day their relationship came to an end.  It had been so long since-

Wait a minute....

Marlon saw his reflection in the rearview mirror.  The Richard that peered back was much younger-possibly 19, with hair far shorter than his presidential 'do.  His red stubble was now a thin beard.

I'm younger!

"Reeshard?" asked Amy.  Soft voice, as he remembered.

And it's only a dream; I remember falling asleep.  And Luna's here because I'm fully conscious and the dream started out blue.  First the clock, now the dream intro.

"Yes?" the young Marlon answered.  His voice had not changed much between then and his presidency, except for the removal of the mild teenage overtone.

"Wat 'appened?"

"N-nothing.  I'm fine."

She must have disguised herself as Amy.

"Are you sure?  You just drove over 'ere een a daze."

I should play along.  She went through this much trouble pulling Amy out of my memory.    

"It's OK, really.  I'm sorry for scaring you."

"OK, boot eef you feel thees way again, I can drive.  Eet's fine."

"No, I'll be alright," Marlon said as he started the car.  His keychain had a rubber piece shaped like Texas on it.  Six Flags Fiesta Texas, it advertised.  He shifted into first and entered the empty highway.  As he drove over the bridge, he saw that Route 50 was deserted, too, and he could see all the way down to the Hummer dealership.  He heard a *flick* and saw Amy lighting a Winston with a black Zippo.

"You want won?"

"Uh... sure."

Amy placed one in the corner of his mouth and lit it while he shifted into fourth.  The harsh tobacco taste filled his throat.  He had no reason to fear; he would quit smoking at twenty-four.

"Thanks."

Some cocksucker on the board of public works had decided to make the exit ramp to 50 inaccessible from the car's original position.  Marlon drove to the cloverleaf near the Udvar-Hazy center and used it to turn back.  He entered 50, heading towards the Hummer dealership.  He had no idea where he was originally going, but suddenly had an idea.  Even though it was a dream, and Amy had a 100 percent chance of being Luna in disguise, he could play along and go sightseeing at the same time.  He turned left at the Red Robin, and passed the Chantilly Crossing shopping center.  Empty parking lot.  Impossible.

"Where are we goeeng again?"

"A little place out in the country.  I think you'll like it," Marlon replied.  He knew of a small town out in the mountains he had been to numerous times in his college days in order to relieve stress with scenery.  He continued through the constantly-green lights to the BP station, at which he turned right.

"Try thees," Amy said, and handed him a black box she had pulled from the glove compartment.  The box had a picture of Gerry Rafferty's City to City album art on the front, and an incorrectly arranged song list on the back.

"Where did you get this?"

"I found eet een a leetle store out een Fairfax.  'Ave you never seen one before?"

"No, I've seen one, but not for a long time.  My dad had an 8-track player back home."

Before he went 'bye-bye, Richie.'

"I got eet for you, seence I know you love museec."

"Well, thanks.  This is a really good album."

"Then water you waiteeng for?  Shove eet een."

Marlon saw a rectangular slot below the dial-radio.  He pushed the 8-track in, and the title song began.

"Woo, woo," Amy said along with the intro.

Richard continued through the empty world until he reached the intersection to Route 29.  He turned to the right and began down the long stretch that moved upward, then made a massive dip, then went back up again.  On one side of the dip were mediocre townhouses.  On the other side were multi-million dollar estates.  The lower and upper middle classes were strictly divided by the high-tension power lines that ran above the road as the dip returned the driver to normal ground level.  The car continued on, passing a church and an ancient community center.  Marlon never liked driving this way because of that community center building.  It reminded him of another antique community center in Nebraska-possibly built with the same blueprints.  The community center in Nebraska next to the subdivision where-

"Reeshard?" Amy asked.  "Are you OK?"

"Wha?  Uh... yeah.  I'm fine, sweetie."

"You look sad.  I hate to see you like thees.  What's the matter?"

"I had a bit of a flashback back there's all.  I remembered something I don't like to."

"Awww, sweetie(ss)," Amy said, wrapping her arm as far around him as she could.  "I hate to see you like thees."

"No, it's OK.  I'll just stop at a gas station and get something to drink.  That should take my mind off it."

"OK.  I think I'll have something, too."

She began to slowly rub his back comfortingly.

Oh, the whimsy.

Home and Dry was finishing up when the car neared the Bull Run battlefield.  The massive Luck Stone quarry would have provided an interesting view, if some cocksucker on the public works board had decided not to put up a big-ass wall to block the view of the hole.

This silver bird takes me 'cross the sky.  Just one more hour and I'll be home and dry.

Across the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealing

Marlon wished his car could be like the silver bird so they could get to the mountains more quickly.  He turned the car left at the battlefield's main intersection and headed toward Manassas, where he would take a ramp to Route 66.  He pulled into a Shell station across from a Bob Evan's and parked the car.

This is a dream, and it started blue, which means Amy has to be Luna.  She can create somebody to be behind the counter in there, or else make stuff free.

The two got out of the car and walked inside the station.  Nobody was there, but the door was unlocked.  The coolers hummed, and a hidden radio played Walking on the Moon.  Its spacey guitar intro made the scene all the more bizarre.

Giant steps are what you take, walking on the moon

I hope my legs don't break walking on the moon

"Nobody's here," Amy said.

"Doesn't look like it."

Amy walked to the cooler and pondered a selection, then said, "I gotta go to the bathroom.  Be back in a sec."  She walked to the bathroom door on the right of the coolers and went inside.  Moments after Marlon heart a faint *zip*, a black Altima pulled up to one of the pumps.  It had apparently come from the opposite direction as he had.

A woman stepped out of the car to examine the pump, then walked to the station building.  She opened the door and walked to the counter.  Nobody.  She looked behind the counter to the tiny office.  Nobody.

"Is anyone running this place?" the woman asked Marlon.  She had a perky voice.  She looked about twenty-five.  Blue locks of curly hair reached her shoulders,and freckles were spread across the center of her small face.  She wore a low-cut, yellow t-shirt with a massive, white "M" on the front and thin jeans like Amy's.  Black aviators covered her eyes.  Of course, it was impossible for Marlon to ignore the elephant in the room.  It would not be possible for anyone to ignore the elephant in this room.

The woman had some of the perkiest boobies Marlon had ever seen.  They were massive, round, and stuck out from her bra like a second ass.  Marlon could not tell if they were real or not.  He secretly imagined sucking them.  He felt guilty for thinking so, since Amy's were something to shake a dick at, but she never had to know.  It was his own mind, and he could fantasize however he damn well pleased.

But what if that's Luna?

Flush.  A faucet running.

Amy came out of the bathroom.

"Steel nobody(ss)?"

"No.  Nobody but her," Marlon said, pointing to the woman near the counter.

"Nobody back there?" Amy asked.

"No.  Looks like somebody left in a hurry."

Amy looked outside, then at the monitor behind the counter that normally displayed the security camera footage.  It was off.  She pulled a Sunkist bottle out of the cooler and shoved it in her pocket.  Next, she found a Hershey's king size cookies 'n creme bar and did the same.  She pulled down a pack of Winstons from behind the counter.

"Amy!" Marlon interjected.

"Wat?  Nobody's around, and the cameras aren't runneeng."

The other woman did the same, except with a Dr. Pepper and a can of Pringles.

"I don't think either of you should be doing this," Marlon said.  Even though it was a dream, it felt wrong to even be acquainted with those who stole.  He realized how goddam stupid it sounded when he actually said it out loud, in a place where there was no need to feel guilty.

"No problem," said the woman with giant boobies.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty, which she laid on the counter.  "Happy?"

"C'mon, Reeshard.  Take some stuff for yourself," Amy encouraged.

"Um... alright."

Marlon picked out a Monster and Sno-Caps.

"Alright, I've got stuff."

"Been a pleasure meeting you two," said the other woman.

"What's your name?" asked Amy.  The other woman paused for a moment and looked at Amy as if she were crazy.

"Mary."

Mam-Mary!

Marlon stifled a chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it.  Anyway, been a pleasure meetin' you two."

Mary got in her car and drove off, apparently in hopes of finding a gas station with a working pump.

"Let's go, Reeshard," Amy said.

He complied, and they left the station.  On their way out, Amy took the twenty dollar bill off the counter and stuffed it in her pocket.

"A-"

It's only a dream.

"Wat ees eet?"

"Nothin'."

Marlon and Amy returned to the car.  Marlon turned back to the main road to get to the 66 ramp.  Rafferty continued to sing.  Marlon saw that the Uno and Regal Cinemas parking lots were empty.  Impossible.  When the car reached the off-ramp at Gainesville a few minutes later, Amy pulled out the 8-track and replaced it with a new one from the glove compartment.  Dire Straits.  She pushed the program selector until Sultans of Swing conveniently began.

Of course the songs always start exactly where they're supposed to; this is a dream.

The road's speed limit picked up to 70 as the city scene faded.  Massive mountains lay ahead to make the scene picturesque and serene.

The ones in Washington state are better, though, Marlon thought to himself.

Amy opened her Sunkist and drank lightly.  Upon seeing this, a verse from Rosetta Stoned began to play in Marlon's head.

Strapped down to my bed.  Feet cold and eyes red.

I'm out of my head.  Am I alive?  Am I dead?

Sunkist and Sudafed.  Gyroscopes and infared.  Won't help.  I'm brain-dead

Can't remember what they said.  God damn.  Shit the bed.

This happened almost every time he saw a Sunkist bottle.  It was becoming tiresome.

The road began to wind through the mountains themselves a few minutes later, and the worn rock face of one of the mountains seemed strangely inviting.  To Marlon, it symbolized the total absence of city life.  The rock had been free to erode over millions of years with no city-like interference.  And it was a rare spectacle anyways, what with Nebraska being flat like Texas and all.  Green trees littered the sides of the highway.  Further in, the mountains on the left side of the road kept their distance from the cars, leaving small valleys in between.  Neither Marlon nor Amy spoke; they simply enjoyed the scenery.  When the car passed the Markham exit, Marlon saw the (empty) Hartland orchard on his right and the sign for the Stribling orchard on his left.

AppleJack would like it out here, he thought.  That would be her dream job-being back in an apple orchard.

Marlon eventually noticed that the car was low on gas.

Dammit.

"Hey Amy, we're running outta gas.  I'll need to stop at a gas station."

"Suit yourself," she said.

Marlon took another exit to his right which would lead him to a Chevron station.  He knew that the pump would work; this was a dream after all.  He turned left under the highway bridge and saw the station directly in front of him.  He drove to the station and pulled up next to a pump.  He pulled the nozzle out of the holder and placed it in the fuel tank.  He pulled the handle-

Yes!

-and the gas began to flow.  Of course it was free; this was a dream.  Money was no good here.

"Let's check that place out," Amy said.  She pointed to the other side of the road.  A long, red building stood there, with a sign on its front, The Apple House.  Smoke came out of a chimney, and a light-grey Ford Ranger was parked outside.  Another dream-person.

Marlon finished filling up the tank.  He drove to the red building and parked next to the Ranger.  The two walked inside.

The main room was not by any means deep, but the ceiling was high.  Halogen lights illuminated a rack of hot sauces directly in front of the entrance.  To the right, cash registers, gumball machines, and an open entrance to a large room which contained various sorts of country memorabilia and kids' toys.  To the left, a long dining room, half-enclosed by rubber roll-down windows.  Half-enclosed, because the rolls were only halfway down.  Though it was relatively dim, Amy did not remove her sunglasses.  Marlon heard a scraping sound come from the kitchen side of the dining room, like a spatula scraping against a grill for meat-flipping purposes.  He walked inside.  A radio played some steel-guitar-saturated country tune.

Must be doin' somethin' right.  I just heard you sigh

You lean into my kiss and close those deep-blue, need-you eyes

Don't know what I did to earn a love like this, but baby IIIII

Must be doin' somethin' right

A young woman's voice hummed along to the tune.  Marlon saw more of the scene as he walked further in.  A woman in her early twenties was within a massive array of machines and pipes, looking down and using the spatula.  She had a freckles and yellow hair, which was done into a ponytail by a red band.  She wore a low-cut, orange t-shirt with a massive, red apple on the front.  She wore sunglasses.  Inside.

"Well howdy, stranger!" she said in a heavy southern accent.  "What can ah do ya for?"

Is that AppleJack?

Marlon said nothing; he only stared at the massive menu written on a massive chalkboard which hung from the white ceiling rafters.  He looked back at her with puzzlement.

"Somethin' ya got a hankerin' for?" she asked.

"Er... no.  Nothing for me.  I'm just lookin' around."

"Alrighty, then.  Just holler if ya need anythin'."

"Do you run this place?"

"Naw.  But nobody else showed up fer work today, so ah'm just sittin' 'round in case anybody decides to show up.  Like y'all, for example."

Amy walked in.  She stared at the menu.  "Gimme a slice of apple pie, plees," she said.

"Well, sure thing, missy.  Apple pah's our specialty here, what with all the orchards 'round 'n such."

The woman walked to the display case (counter?) and pulled out a slice of pie.

"This'un's on the house.  Take it as a li'l token of 'preciation fer comin' round here at all.  Just don't go tellin nobody, ya hear?"

You are AppleJack.  But why are you here?

"Tank you.  Don't worry(ss).  I won't tell anybody(ss)." Amy said.  She took a fork from a fork box on the counter, then walked to a table.  She dove into the pie.  Marlon sat down opposite her.

"I take it you like it," he said.  Amy did not reply; her mouth was full.

The woman walked over to the table (Marlon saw that she was wearing cowboy boots) and pulled up a seat next to Amy.  Amy stared at her with curiosity.

"Ah hope y'all don't mind me comin' over here, but it gets awful lonely up here'n these mountains, and ah'm one ta value th'art a' conversation."

Amy swallowed and stared at the woman, who stared at Marlon.  Almost as if she was trying to... observe him.

"OK, fine.  Boot I'm thirsty(ss).  Do you have anytheeng to dreenk?"

"Sure we do."

"Plees breeng me sometheeng.  I don't care wat."

"Yep.  Apple pah'll do that to ya.  Hold on a sec.  I'll rustle a li'l sum'n sum'n up."

The woman walked back behind the counter and grabbed a cup from some hidden box.  She walked to the soda fountain on the right side of the counter and poured what appeared to be Coke.  She walked back over to the table.

"Trah summa this.  It'll do ya good."

Amy took the cup and drank heartily.  She looked as if she had been dying of thirst, even though she had had 20 ounces of Sunkist-

...And Sudafed.

-earlier.

"That was deleecious," Amy said.  "I deedn't have stuff like tat back 'ome."

"Really now?  Ah thought they always had Coke in France."

"They deed, but I deedn't try eet unteel I got to the U.S."

The two women continued to chat about various sodas that may or may not have ever existed in France, and Marlon pondered the questions invading his mind.

Why are they all wearing sunglasses?  Are they photosensitive?  What was that poster girl for Hooters doing in the gas station?  And why did Luna bring AppleJack here?  I didn't even know she could do that.  Why is Luna eating so much?  Should I call AppleJack out, or just play along?  This is certainly a bizarre twist from the first dream.  And why 8-tracks, of all things she could use to put music in this dream?  Is it because of the ones I remember?  I remember cassette tapes, too.  Why not those?

"Ah ain't heard much outta y'all," the woman said to Marlon.  "Sum'n on yer mind?"

"N... nothing much.  I'm a little curious is all.  There's nobody else out there; I think something's wrong."

"Well, yer cert'nly right 'bout that.  Not a whole slew'a visitors 'round here, either, but there's usually some business."

*Ding.*

"Ah'l get that," the woman said.  She got up and walked to the entrance.

"Where'a y'all been?  Ah've been waitin' all day fer ya!" she said to the girl coming through the door.

"Ah'm sorry.  The damned car wouldn't start.  Took me forever to get it runnin'."

"OK, fahne.  Look sharp!  We got business!"

The woman returned with a girl, about sixteen.  She had long, crimson hair, a yellow shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots like the woman's.

She wore sunglasses.

"Howdy," the girl said.  She had a heavy southern accent.

"This 'ere's mah sister, Betty," said the woman.  An' I forgot to introduce mahself:  ah'm Janet, but folks call me Jane.  I'd a might prefer if y'all would, too."

AppleBloom?

She sat next to Marlon.  He noticed a large bow in the back of her wavy, red hair.

AppleBloom.  What is she doing here, too?

Everyone was silent.  There was nothing to talk about.  Except-

"Why are you all wearing sunglasses?" asked Marlon.  "We're inside."

"'Cause they were expensive and we're tryin' ta get as much use outta them as possible," Betty said.

"But inside?  Everything must be so dark."

"We like it that way.  We got sensitive eyes, see?" Jane added.

"Oh, yeah?  It seems that everybody I meet here wears sunglasses inside.  I'd expect it from Amy, but not from three other people at various locations."

"Ah say it's a coincidence," Betty said.

"Well can I at least see what your eyes look like?" Marlon asked the two.  "It's really weird not to."

"They're deformed," Betty said guiltily.

"How?"

"Well, mah left one' pupil's too big, and the right one's pointin' inwards.  Mah sister ain't got normal eyelids.  They don't close all the way, see?  They got an extra bitta skin holdin' em open.  Buncha bad genes.  It'll gross ya out.  And I'll bet the third person y'all met just didn't feel like takin' em off fer some reason."

Marlon stared at the two, then decided to play along.

"Alright, if you say so.  I won't pry anymore."

"Can I 'ave a reefeel?" asked Amy.

"Sure thing," Jane said.  She refilled the cup with Coke.  Amy drank it quickly.

"I love thees stuff!" Amy said.

"Well, that's what most folks say."

"Nice sceeneery out'ere," Amy said.  "I love eet."

"Well, that's why we live out here.  Nice'n serene-lahke."

"Are you two from around here?" asked Marlon, desperate for a subject to talk about.

"Nope.  Texas, the both of us."

"Where in Texas?"

"Y'all ever hearda Utopia?"

"Yeah.  Catchy tunes."

"No, not the band.  Talkin 'bout the town Utopia."

"Never heard of it."

"Figures.  Nahs place, really.  Ain't nobody there ta bother ya."

"And you moved up here... why?"

"We lahke the mountains.  Texas ain't got so much."

Silence.  There was nothing to talk about.  A cardinal was *chip*-ping away like mad outside.  The breeze rolled through the open window-flaps.  The radio played uninterrupted.

When you're tired of it all and tears need to fall

When your back's to the wall-come cryin' to me  

"Let's go, Reeshard," Amy finally said.  She stood up, and Marlon followed.

"Goodbye," Marlon said to the two southern girls.

"Bye, now.  I'm sorry we couldn't think of more ta talk about," said Jane.

"No, no.  It's fine.  Maybe we'll be back sometime."

"Alrighty, then.  Buh-bye."

Marlon and Amy walked out the door and got into the car.  Marlon started the car and exited the parking lot toward the ramp back to 66.

When the car was out of sight, Amy poofed into the chair she had been in originally back at the Apple House.

"You can take off your glasses now; he's gone," she said in Luna's voice.  Jane and Betty removed their glasses.

"What did you think?" Amy asked.

"I reckon he was a might handsome in his younger years," Jane said.

"He doesn't look that much different now."

"Yeah, but he looks so much more rugged with that jaw-beard," Jane said dreamily.

"Would you like me to-"

"Oh, naw, naw, naw; don't put yerself through the trouble."

"OK, but you know who to call if you change your mind."

"Alrighty."

"Well, 'Betty,' what did you think?"

"He's purdy quiet.  Ain't got much ta say."

"I think he's always like that when nobody's around."

"It's so weird seein' him like that; not at all what he seems in front'a people."

"Indeed.  But he had a really rough childhood; I read his journal before I went to sleep this morning to see if there was anything else I could help him on."

"Uh... Luna?" asked Jane.

"Yes?"

"Forgive me fer askin' ya this, but... why on the first night?"

Amy cocked her head in confusion, then stared down at the table.

"Hm.  Seems he's not the best secret-keeper."

"He didn't tell anybody.  Celestia told us."

Amy's head shot up.

"And ah don't even think he told her.  She just figured it out by his facial expression," Jane continued.

"Oh, brilliant.  All I need now is my sister breathing down my neck."

"Ah don't think she's angry'r nuthin'.  Just wondrin' why you did it so soon."

Amy adopted a thinking pose, resting her chin on her vertical, pushed-together fists.

"Because he was very distressed about his sexual problem, and I thought it would fix it more quickly.  That and he loves having sex with other humans.  I thought, 'why shouldn't that apply for me?  I'm anthropomorphic.'"

Jane studied what she could make out of Amy's facial expression-that which was not covered by the glasses.

"Is there some other reason?"

"No.  Nothing else.  I wanted to help him is all."

"Yer face ain't sayin' that."

"Oh yeah?  What's it saying?"

"'You're a might in love with him' is what it's sayin'.  Sum'n 'bout him's different from all the rest o' them stallions that ya couldn't find on Equestria."

"How could you possibly think that's what my face is saying?"

"Cheek and jaw angle.  Yer lips are still closed, but yer jaw's lower.  Which means yer sad 'bout sum'n.  And them folds in yer skin 'bove yer glasses that came up when I started talkin' 'bout him.  That means you're thinkin' hard 'bout him.  Put 'em together, and ya got mah prediction.  If ah could see yer eyes, ah could be sure."

Amy took off her glasses.

"Yep, just as ah thought.  Li'l twist at the edge."

"Who did you get that gene from?"

"Ah reckon it was mah dad, but ah ain't totally sure."

Amy replaced the glasses.

"And Celestia can do the same?"

"Apparently.  She's even better at it than me."

Amy sighed.

"What will she think of me if she finds out the whole truth?"

"Well, ah dunno.  That ain't never happened before.  Y'all could make it look convincin' enough, though.  All ya gotta do is keep up that human form, and bingo!"

Pause.

"But the better question is:  what made ya so inta him so quick in the first place?"

"Y... you wouldn't understand.  And I mean that.  You literally wouldn't understand."

"If y'all insist, but always remember ah'm here if ya need help.  Even princesses have emotional problems sometimes."

"I'm guessing you got that helpfulness gene from your dad, too."

"Ah suppose."

Amy looked at Betty.

"So what do you think about all this?"

"Well... ah ain't sure ah can relate to that much.  Ah ain't attracted to no humans.  Ah dunno what ya should do.  Ah'd suggest goin' with AJ's idea."

Amy sighed again and rubbed her temples with her thumbs.

"One more question ah got fer ya," Betty said.

"Shoot."

"Who was that other gal he was talkin' bout?"

"Oh, that was Milky Way.  She was curious about him just like you two."

"Can't imagine what his reaction musta been when he saw her."

"Oh, I can imagine," Amy said, looking down at her jacket, where here breasts were.  "What I can't imagine is why humans evolved to have these things up here."

"Neither can ah.  They're feelin' weird up here," said Jane.

"And they don't have panels," Amy added.  The other two girls stared at her, wide-eyed, finding it difficult to imagine having one's equipment-especially male equipment-constantly hanging loose.

"So that's why they always wear pants," Betty said.

"Yep.  And the males have... hair.  Lots of it.  Armpits, chest, back, and genitalia."

The other two girls looked shocked.

"Why'd'ya suppose that is?" asked Betty.

"Probably something to do with... I have no idea."

"Is that... attractive to them?"

"I'm not sure.  Maybe not to some.  I'd imagine their sexual preferences differ as much as ours."

The two girls stared at each other awkwardly, in a "should we really be talking about this?" look.

"Uh, Luna?  It ain't that we don't find all'a that sexy stuff interestin', but... uh... ah dunno how to put it," Jane said.

"It feels a li'l off to be talkin' so deeply about the reproduction habits'a other species, 's what she's tryin' ta say," Betty added.

"Oh.  OK.  I'm sorry about that," Amy said with only the smallest twinge of guilt in her voice.  "As you know, I make it my job to keep up on that sort of thing, and their 'habits' don't seem so much different than ours.  I should know; I snuck a sexy-science book from Marlon's bookshelf.  Apparently, he's really interested in the psychology," Amy elaborated, obviously interested in the one-sided conversation.

"That's nice ta hear'n all, but as ah said before, it's purdy weird, hearin 'bout the sexual habits'a some other species."

"But Jane thinks he looked handsome.  This could be useful information for her," Amy said excitedly.

"Look, Luna.  Ah thought we agreed-if ah changed mah mind on it, ah'd let ya know.  There ain't nothin' goin' on now."

"I meant for future reference.  You know-if you do change your mind."

Jane sighed to herself exasperatedly.

"Weren't there other ponies who wanted to see him?" Jane asked.

"Yeah, but I figure my other consciousness isn't out there yet.  Still got quite a ways to go."

"But you should get them now and tell 'em their lines 'n stuff so they'll have time to prepare."

Amy considered.

"I suppose you're right.  I'll go and get them."

"What about us?  When do we get outta this place?"

"When he wakes up.  Need I re-explain the dream sharing limitations?"

"Naw.  Ah know, ah know.  But can ya at least-"

Jane stopped herself.

"What?"

"Nuthin'.  Nuthin'."

"Alright then.  Try and explore a little.  It'll do you good.  By the way, nice save on the eye thing, 'Betty.'"

"Thanks."

Amy stood up and poofed away.  No smoke cloud, no fading, nothing.  Her disappearance was like a blank cell in a whole movie reel.

"Give 'er an inch, she'll take a mile," Jane said.

Betty snickered.

"Oh, y'all know what ah mean!"  She paused.  "Guess it's mah fault fer callin' him handsome."

"She's like one'a them salesponies back home; show any interest and yer half past bucked."

"Yeah.  And by the way, ah ain't sure if she brought Milky Way just 'cause she was curious 'bout Marlon.  Somethin' in her eyes was hintin' at a double meanin'."

"Prob'ly wanted to see if he'd get hard from seein' her."

"That actually makes a bushel'a sense."

"What was y'all 'bout ta say ta her 'fore she left?"

"Was gonna ask if she could put something interesting to do in this dream, but ah can imagine what she woulda done then."

Richard?  Jane.  Jane?  Richard.  Alright.  Apples' Assholes, take 1!  Action!

"Ya designate expertise on all night-time activities to one pony, and ya get this."

Jane poured herself a Coke and sat back down at the table quietly, sipping.  The cardinal resumed its *chip*-ping.  John Fogerty sang on the radio.

Forward troubles Illinois; lock the front door, oh boy!

Look at all the happy creatures dancing on the lawn

Bother me tomorrow; today I'll buy no sorrows

Doo, doo, doo, lookin' out my back door

---

Marlon took an exit ramp off of 66 which let out at a small intersection in front of a Target.  He turned left onto a road that ran between two mountains.  Neither had spoken much; Marlon could not address the topic of the two girls without blowing his "I totally know about all of this" cover.  The only interesting thing that happened was that Amy switched to a blue Three Dog Night tape.

How many of those does she have?

The tape took a few seconds to finish the third program, then *ca-chung*-ed into An Old Fashioned Love Song.

The car passed a Shell station on its right and came up on a massive bridge, which led into downtown Front Royal.  The bridge was outfitted with old-style streetlights on each side, and passed over a massive field far below.  The green sea reminded Marlon of the water below the Fred Hartman bridge.  He remembered the Bachman-Turner Overdrive playing on his radio, completely unaware of the suicidal mother.

And would you cry if I told you that I lied?

And would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?

Marlon could say goodbye, but he could never let it ride.

Mountains decorated both sides of the bridge in the distance.  This, coupled with the small town ahead, made the scene look like it had been pulled from a model train layout.  The only difference was that Marlon was not made of plastic (the last time he checked).

"I'm hungry as fuck," Amy said through the Winston in her mouth.

"You sure are hungry today," Marlon observed.

"I'm not sure why.  It seems like I haven't eaten in days."

"Don't worry.  I know a place."

Marlon drove the car straight on through the road that ran behind the town (which included another bridge over another green sea).  He passed multiple gas stations, car repair shops, and shit motels.  He turned left when he reached the Shell station across from a pizza joint.  To the right of the car lay a small cluster of stores at the bottom of a small grade.  Directly above the stores lay an ornate, but small, hotel.

Marlon pulled into the parking lot of a small drive-thru place.  The sign above the marquee board read, Spelunker's.  Marlon had eaten out here multiple times during his college days.  It was the only Spelunker's in the U.S., most likely because they refused to allow it anywhere else except deep in the Blue Ridges.  He always described it as "Five Guys times 2," since the burgers were so greasy that they fell apart in the eater's hands.  There was no point in trying to keep the grease from getting on the table; it would bleed through the wrapper.  Woe to the poor bastards who actually used the drive-thru.

There were three cars in the parking lot.

"Never heard of eet," Amy said when Marlon turned off the car.

"Exactly."

They got out of the car and walked inside.

The dining room was about the same size as any Wendy's dining room.  The room looked surreal due to the blue backrests on the booths and cushions on the small chairs at the equally small tables.  Behind the counter, the building's age showed.  The menu was ancient and bleached, like a bowling alley menu.  The beige paint browned in some places, and the kitchen area was dimly lit and the dullest possible grey.  The drive-thru window graced the left wall behind the counter, next to a shake machine and an ice cream cone dispenser.  An island across from the counter housed the soda fountain and lids.  A rubber mat on the floor kept leaking soda from getting all over the damn place.

Three people in blue Spelunker's shirts were on the dismal side of the counter.  Two in the kitchen area, checking on the fries, and one near the counter.  It was a college-age woman-early twenties.  She had long, blond hair.  Her back was all that was visible, since she was muddling around near the drive-thru window.

"Oh, where are they, where are they?" Marlon heard her whisper in a high voice.  She never turned toward the two people on the other side of the counter.

Marlon saw a pair of black aviators next to one of the cash registers, next to the jumble of table number-stands.  He picked them up.

"Excuse me?" he said to the woman.  She did not appear to hear him.  "Excuse me?" he said again.  No answer, not even from the people in the back.  "Are you looking for these?" he asked, holding up the aviators.

She whipped around.

"Oh!  You found the-"

She stopped dead.  She stared wide-eyed at Marlon.  He stared back with an equal expression.  Now he knew why everyone was wearing sunglasses.

Her eyes were yellow.

There was no distinction between iris and pupil-just one round, pink ball in the middle of yellow scleras.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

The woman gulped, then made a small squeaking noise from the depths of her throat.  She nervously moved to the counter.  Her face was quite small, and the closer the eyes got to Marlon, the creepier they seemed.  She stared at the aviators, but did not take them.  There was no point anymore.  She moved to the register directly in front of him and stared some more.

"W... welcome to Spelunker's," she said quietly.

It's Fluttershy.

"Why are your eyes yellow?" Marlon asked.

"Yellow?  I haven't noticed."

"Yeah.  Yellow.  With pink pupils."

"Are you sure?  I thought my pupils were black like yours."

"Oh, give it up, Fluttershy.  He knows it's you," Amy said in Luna's voice.

Fluttershy (or, "Faye," judging by her nametag) stared back at Amy.

"I... I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to screw things up," she said.  She looked like she was about to cry again.

Batten down the hatches, boys!  Poseidon's pissed!

"You didn't screw anything up, really.  He just knows it's you now."

"B... but he wasn't supposed...."

"Oh, relax," Marlon said.  "I knew it was AppleJack and AppleBloom back there.  And I know that Amy is really Luna.  I was just playing along the whole time."

"Y... you... you were?"

"Yeah.  I'm not stupid."

"What gave it away?" Luna asked.

"The fading into blue at the beginning of the dream.  And the fact that you're the only one who has the ability to make me fully conscious during dreams.  And that you like Earth's rock music.  And you were the only other one in this dream for a while."

"Shit!" Luna said quietly to herself.

"But couldn't you have just read my mind to figure out if I was catching on earlier to think of a better diversion?"

"Well, I figured that if you got too suspicious, AppleJack and AppleBloom could make up better excuses, so I never really bothered.  Mind-reading within a dream isn't incredibly hard, but it requires a lot of concentration.  I was already 'in the zone' when you got into the first dream, and I only read your mind a little.  I find my job more interesting when I get to find out about the other party from them, rather than just reading their minds to distinguish personalities all the time.  It's more... personal, I suppose?"

"Understandable.  But on a different note, what do your eyes look like?" Marlon asked.

Luna took off her glasses to reveal shiny black scleras with one extremely narrow, royal-blue iris hovering in each's center.

"And AppleJack's and AppleBloom's?"

"First:  orange with yellow centers.  Second:  yellow with red centers.  And for whatever reason, color-changing spells are some of the hardest spells to pull off.  It takes an extreme amount of magic energy to remove all traces of our original colors.  But even if only a bit of color is kept, it's not that difficult."

"Are there any other... ponies here I should know about?"

"Come out, guys, he knows!" Luna said to the two people in the back.  They both walked out.  Neither wore sunglasses.  It must not have seemed necessary, since they would most likely remain back there for the entire dream.

Both looked college-age, one man and one woman.  The former wore a black emover and had a long face, spotted with red zit remains.  His eyes were purple with green centers.  The latter's hair was spiky and a shiny red, and her face vaguely resembled Anne Hathaway's, but with much sharper features and bleached skin.  Her eyes were blue with centers that glowed like cat eyes.  They glowed a different color depending on the angle one viewed them.

"Hey," the latter said in Dashie's voice.

"Hey," the former said in a voice much different than Spike's.  It sounded like how he looked.

"What are you all doing here?" asked Marlon.

"I brought them here (obviously).  They wanted to see what you were really like-without all the pressure of talking to aliens.  They wanted to get to know you better by observing you incognito."

"What about Rarity?"

"She didn't want to.  She wanted to keep her 'beauty sleep' and is under the false impression that dream-sharing alters one's physical being.  It doesn't."

"How did you bring them here?"

"I went into their dreams and asked them if they'd like to see what you were really like, deep down.  I thought it would help to alleviate any nervousness they felt towards you.  If they agreed, I magically transported their consciousnesses to your dream."

"Did you use your clone to do that?"

"Yes, but I could have done it without the clone.  I could have stopped dream time and gone to get them without you ever noticing."

"You can stop time?"

"Not real time.  Dream time.  When I perform that spell that allows time to go by more slowly in a dream than in real time, I'm increasing the speed at which your brain processes the dream.  If one were to look in on your dream from the outside, it would be greatly sped up, which means that it would take place in a much shorter span of real time."

"Damn.  That's heavy."

"Indeed.  Frankly, I'm surprised you understand it.

Now, as you can probably tell, I've been quite hungry this whole time.  That's because I'm using a massive amount of magic in keeping all of you here, and food helps to keep my stamina up.  Of course it won't kill me if I don't have any, but I might develop a headache within a few hours."

"And you want to eat here?"

"What's wrong with it?  Looks fine to me."

"Nothing, really, but it's cow meat here.  And it's super-greasy.  The burgers fall apart in your hands sometimes from the grease's weight."

"Who says I don't like cow meat?  We had it back home."

"Nobody, but I remember your buddies saying that you guys didn't eat meat much."

"Well, not much.  It was expensive back home, so we mostly ate grass and other assorted plants, but for special occasions, there was nothing more I loved than a good, hearty cow steak.  And by special occasions, I mean 'whenever I got hungry in a dream,' but now, I want to try some more genuine Earth food."

"I didn't eat any meat," Dashie chimed in.

You don't say!

"Really?  You don't know what you're missing!"

"Well, it was expensive!  I never really thought it'd be worth it."

"Well, we'll have to remedy that.  You can't go living your life without any meat; the protein's good for you!"

"I seemed to do OK back home."

"Just a bite?" Luna asked, making a tiny space between her right thumb and index finger and smiling exaggeratedly.

"He said it was greasy!  You can't just go polluting a body as athletic as this with stuff like that willy-nilly!"

Luna made the gap smaller, keeping the smile.

"Oh, come on, Luna!"

Smaller.

"You're not seriously pulling this agai-"

Smaller.

"There's nothing special about meat."

Smaller.

"Imagine a single atom between my two fingers," Luna said through the grin.

"Trust her, Dashie.  It's really good.  A little bite won't hurt you," Marlon said.

"Oh, now you're in on this?"

"A quark.  Imagine a quark between my fingers," Luna said.

"OK, fine!  I'll try some.  Just don't bother me about this ever again, OK?"

"Deal," said Luna.  "But you'll liiiiiiiiiiike iiiiiiiit," she said in a stereotypical "tooooold yooooou" tone of voice.

"How are we supposed to make this, though?" asked Spike.

"Good question.  See if there's an instruction sheet on the wall back there.  Maybe it'll shed some light on the situation," Luna said.  Her voice was becoming slightly desperate.

Spike walked back to the kitchen and rotated to scan the walls.

"Ah!  Here we go!"

He pulled down a laminated sheet from the wall and brought it to the counter.  Luna stared down at the odd instructions and pondered violently.

"Hm.  Looks simple enough.  They had these back home, but they never caught on, since meat was so expensive."

"Why was it so expensive?"

"Because cows were sentient back home.  Slaughterhouse workers were paid much extra to make up for the fact that they knew they were killing sentient beings."

"But why would you kill something you know is sentient?"

"Because they tasted good, that's why.  It's not like we tortured them or anything.  A quick chop across the neck from a converted drop-forge, and all their troubles were over in a second.  Wouldn't even know what hit 'em.  And we would know, since we studied cow anatomy and found out where their nerve endings weren't."

"Wouldn't they hold a grudge against your people for killing them?"

"They were sentient, not smart.  And they didn't do anything as a revolt in the thousands of years we lived with them."

Marlon remembered the Far Side cartoon with the cow with the giant head-the one that knew something was awry in the slaughterhouse yard.  He quickly dismissed the idea.  He knew where meat came from:  animals, where else?  And better for him to dismiss the idea now before he began to think like an overzealous hippie.

"Do you think you could whip one of these up, Spike?" Luna asked, turning her head upwards at a bizarre angle to make eye contact with Spike.

"I... guess so.  But I'm not sure if I'll do it right.  Wouldn't your magic be able to make one in a zip?"

"Can you do me a solid here?  I'm really tired right now.  Don't worry, I'll owe you one."

"Well, alright.  I guess I'll give it a shot.  C'mon Dashie."

"Why do I have to make it?"

"You don't.  You can get the fries."

Dashie sighed.

"Alright, fine."

The two walked back to the kitchen.  Fluttershy had nervously stared at Luna the whole time.

"Uh, Luna?" she asked quietly, tapping a leather-clad shoulder that faced the opposite direction.

"Yes?"

"Who's that?"

Fluttershy was pointing to the parking lot.  A light-grey Camry was pulling in.

Hm-hm, Luna said under her breath.

Another twenty-something-year-old got out of the car.  She wore a pink tracksuit.  Her hair was pink and reached just past the small of her back, but was frizzy around the ends, as if she had touched a Van de Graaf generator.  When she got inside, Marlon saw that her eyes were completely pink-no trace of pupils or irises.  She walked to the counter and stared at the menu.  Luna stepped aside.  Marlon saw a small bit of pink hair stuck out from one of her sleeves.

Oh God!  It's arm hair!

Other bits of hair stuck out from the tops of her shoes, where the pant legs ended.

Is that supposed to be Pinkie?

"C... can I help you?" Fluttershy asked the pink person.

No reply.

"Uh... um... excuse me?"

No reply.  The pink woman's face studied the menu intently.  Her eyes widened as she focused on one of the items.  She let out a high, airy, gasp.

"Do you see something you want?"

A smile shot onto the pink woman's face.  Another gasp.  Fluttershy switched her stare to Luna.

"Uh, Luna?  Who... is this?"

The pink woman stuck out her tongue and made a raspberry sound.  Fluttershy jumped and let out a small squeak at the spit stream.

"Do you remember her?" Luna asked Fluttershy.  She poofed up a Polaroid-esque film cell and gave it to Fluttershy.  She stared at the picture, then at the pink woman.  Picture.  Woman.  Picture.  Woman.

"Yes, but it's been so long," Fluttershy said, giving the cell back to Luna, who poofed it away without a trace.  "Why is she here?"

"Multiple reasons."

Another raspberry.  Fluttershy looked to where the pink woman's finger was pointing:  the Double Cavern Burger.

"You want a double cavern burger?" asked Fluttershy.  Raspberry.  Jump.  Squeak.

"That's not Pinkie, right?" Marlon asked Luna.

"No.  Her name's Fluffle Puff.  She doesn't talk much, due to an overly-thick esophagus that doesn't let large amounts of air through easily.  Ironically, she doesn't have any trouble with breathing or eating.  She can talk, but mostly resorts to raspberries and gasps."

"And the 'Fluff' part comes from the hair?"

"Yes.  Here's her picture."

Luna poofed the picture back into existence and showed it to Marlon.  The pony on the cell was nothing like any of the others.  The rest of the ponies had visible bodies, but this one's was covered by poofy, pink hair.  Even the face was lined with it.  No neck, torso, or legs were visible; she was literally a ball of fuzz.

"What's the evolutionary purpose of that?"

"None anymore.  When our race was first evolving millions of years ago, it was normal for ponies to grow extreme amounts of fur to protect them from the intense Equestrian winters.  When the ponies learned to build warm houses, the gene eventually faded away.  But Fluffle Puff's bloodline never dropped it; she's a living piece of history.  There's no point in shaving it off; it grows back in minutes."

"Does she have a Cutie Mark?"

"Yes.  Ham."

"Ham?"

"That's right.  A cured hock of ham."

"What talent does that correspond to?"

"I have no idea.  She never tells anypony."

Sizzling and beeping rang from the back.

"How are the fries holding up?" asked Spike.

"I think they're done," Dashie replied.

"OK.  How do you know?"

"Do you not hear the beeping timer?"

"Well, who knows how long they were in there before we got here?"

"Do you really think that matters?"

"Sure it does!  They could be overly stiff!"

Heh-heh.

"Why don't you just try one?  You're a dragon; heat shouldn't bother you."

"But I'm not in my dragon body anymore, am I, Dashie?"

"Can't you just come here and look at 'em if you're so obsessed?"

"This patty needs attention; I can't just leave it here."

"For two seconds?"

"Hey, two seconds can make a lot of difference."

Spike's arm could be seen, pointing to parts of the instruction sheet.  He pulled the patty off the grill and onto an auxiliary counter.  He pulled the various toppings out from containers on the counter, and assembled the burger carefully.

"What's wrong with this thing?  Keeps falling apart on itself!"

"Did you forget that these things are supposed to be greasy?"

"No, but this is insane!"

"OK, now that you're done, can you get these fries?"

"Alright, have it your way."

Spike turned his head and leaned to get a good view of the fries.

"OK, they're good."

"That's it?  You didn't even have to move!"

"Just get the fries out."

Dashie took the basket out of the frying oil and dumped them into a fry repository.

"So now what?"

"Put 'em in a bag, that's what!  Don't you remember how they did it back home?"

Dashie took the large fry scooper and funneled the fries into a miniature cardboard receptacle (basket?), which she then placed on a large, blue tray.  She mumbled something unintelligible to herself.

Spike finally got the damn burger assembled and wrapped it with care.  He put the thing on the tray, next to the fries.  He brought the tray to the counter.

"Here you go, Luna.  One dream-Earth burger."

"All riiight!"

Luna took the tray to a row of crammed-together tables behind the soda island.  The half pointing back towards the island was lined with chairs, while the other was lined by a long booth seat.  Luna sat on the latter side.

"Everybody come over here and get cups for yourselves; there's no need to make anything else!"

Everybody did so.  Marlon sat next to Luna and across from Fluttershy.  He could faintly smell flowers and mown grass.

Luna stared at her tray intently, then at the table space in front of each person.

Poof.

Clones of the tray, burger, and fries appeared from nowhere in front of each person.

"It's easier to clone stuff when I'm basing it on a real object first," Luna explained to Marlon.  "Now get drinks-all of you.  I'd imagine you'll need them."

Once again, everybody did so.  They got to the fountain and poured their drinks, with a range of Dr. Pepper to Barq's.  Fluttershy was the last in line, and had trouble deciding which drink she should take.  She was frightened as to whether the sodas on Earth tasted bad; they could be much different than the ones on Equestria.

Luna took Fluttershy's cup and filled it with Coke, like she did with her own.

"You'll love it.  Trust me."

"Uh... OK."

When all of them had sat down, Luna began:  "So, I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here today."

"Not really," Dashie said.

"SHHH!!  It sounds cooler that way!" Luna said through her teeth.  She then looked to each person at the table.

"Does anyone wonder why I've called you all here today?"

No answer.  Only Marlon raised his hand.

"Yes.  Richard, I believe?"

"Why are we here.  Of all places to call people together, why'd you pick Front Royal?"

"I didn't pick it.  You did.  I only set up the world based on your memories as we went along."

"Why the 8-tracks?"

"I used a memory that was so far-back that it would make this dream a little more interesting.  As you may know, I like to be unorthodox.  I generated the tapes from the songs and albums you actually remembered.  Actually, that reminds me-"

The speakers on the ceiling began to play Scenes From an Italian Restaurant.

"Much better."

(A bottle of white, a bottle of red, perhaps a bottle of rose iiinstead)

"Why did you pick Amy to dress up as?"

"Would you rather see me as Lanie?" she asked sarcastically.

Lanie!

Marlon stared at his tray for an indefinite amount of time.

"I didn't think so," Luna continued.  "I picked a figure from your memory who didn't have quite a large... place."

"Who's Lanie?" Dashie asked.

"IIIIIIIII wouldn't recommend asking that," Luna said.

"Lanie...," Marlon whispered.  "Why'd you have to bring it up?"

"Who... who's Lanie?" Dashie asked again with nervousness in her voice.

"Take a look at this," Luna said.  Her eyes glowed a bright white, and Dashie's followed.  Luna was accessing a memory.  For a single second, Marlon could not see the dining room.  He saw the desk where he had first met her.  Study hall period.  Lanie right across from him in her loud, green jacket.

Spelunker's came back into view, and all the people with it.  They were all staring at Dashie, who kept still with her white eyes.  Marlon remembered what Luna had said about the memories:  he would know if she was accessing them.  Fortunately, he did not have to relive them firsthand.

Fifteen dream-minutes passed, and some of the people had finished their food already.  Marlon knew why it was taking this long.  Dashie was being given a firsthand look at Marlon's history with Lanie.

The white glow faded from both of their eyes.  Luna immediately dove into her burger.  By now, the speakers had gone through the completely-unrelated-to-any-Billy-Joel-song-whatsoever Italian Leather Sofa and picked up on Hey Jealousy.

"Tho now ya know," she said through a full mouth.

(But tomorrow we can drive around this town and let the cops chase us around)

Dashie stared at her, then at the table, then at Marlon.  Her eyes were wide.

"But that's not fair," she said to herself.  Then, to Marlon, "So that's why you-"

"Yes," he said quietly.  "That's why."

"B... but that didn't make any sense," she said to Luna.

"I don't think it wath thuppothed to."

Dashie stared down at her tray as Marlon had.

"Don't tell anyone, OK?" Marlon asked quietly.

"No.  No, I won't."

None of the others spoke.  They were afraid to ask about the memory.  Luna began on the fries.

Dashie took a bite out of her burger.  She chewed thoughtfully.  Grease ran down her fingers.

"Well, ith better than I exthpected."

"Told you."

Dashie continued to eat her burger, saying nothing, and holding no expression on her face.  The burger eventually fell apart under its own grease-weight.  Dashie ate the rest with a fork she brought from the island.

"Hafta do some good workin' out to get rid of this."

"No need.  Have you forgotten this is a dream?" Luna said with a fry in her mouth.

"You're right," Dashie said quietly.

"Well, that's the price you pay for understanding stuff," Luna said in response to Dashie's inaudible and possibly nonexistent question.  "Any other questions?" she asked the rest of them as Machinehead hit its first verse.

(I spin on a whim, I slide to the right.  I felt you like electric light)

Spike raised his hand.

"Spike?"

"What else is there to do around here?"

"You mean in Front Royal?" Marlon replied.

"Yeah."

"Uh....  There's an antique store, a little store similar to it that sells stuff that isn't quite as old, a general store, another general store, a bunch of mountains, a book store that sells every book that could ever imaginably exist, and... that's about it."

"Twilight would like that store that sells books.  She's violently obsessed with 'em."

Luna looked around at each person.

"Well, you all came here to see Richard in his natural habitat, so let's go somewhere and stare at him!" Luna announced.

Marlon stared back with a puzzled expression.

"That's an interesting way to put it."

"Meh.  I try."

Everyone finished their food and got rid of the trash.  Most took refills for the road.  Everyone walked out to their respective cars except for Dashie.

"You go ahead, I'll wait up," she said to the rest.  As Marlon was about to walk out the door, Dashie stopped him:  "Uh, Rich?  C... could you come back for a sec?"

Marlon sat back in his seat.  Dashie had already returned to hers.

"Why do you still wear the tie?"

"Dashie, p... please don't make me talk about it."

"But I'm curious; it doesn't make sense why you still wear the tie."

"But can't you sort of... infer?"

"No.  Not really."

"I don't like telling people.  It's one of those things that you'd probably like to, but hate to form the words."

"But what have you got to lose in telling me?"

"I'll tell you what I have to lose:  my reputation.  You'll think I'm an even bigger wimp."

"No, no.  You're not a wimp.  I'll admit I would have thought it if I'd just seen that last bit, but seeing the whole story made it clear:  you're not a wimp."

"Says you.  You're not from Earth."

"So?  Worked the same back home, from what I can tell."

"What's your definition of a wimp, then?"

"Somebody who quits for no good reason.  There's justified quitting, and there's wimpy quitting.  And you didn't do either."

"Look, I don't see a real need to go into this."

"But the curiosity is killing me!"

Marlon sighed, then began:  "It's a reminder."

"But why?  Why would you want to remember that so often?"

"I'm not trying to remember the porch.  Only the time I was walking on air.  It was the last time I-"

Why am I talking about this?

"-actually felt a bit of hope back home."

"Does that... happen a lot on Earth?"

"I can't say for sure.  None of my friends back then had it happen that way, but I can't speak for the rest of the world."

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"Senior year.  And not even full conversations or anything.  Just 'hi's in the hall."

"But why do you have to think so much of it?  It's been so long."

"Because it was the final straw.  It was the final thing that convinced me that I would never go back to Nebraska out of free will.  The only other times I've gone back were on my campaign trails; I had to go to Lincoln to win support.  It reminds me of my mission, or, 'anti-mission.'  And as I said, the weeks leading up to it were the last ray of hope for life in Nebraska.  'It's a big state,' I thought.  'I can move super-far-away from my mom.'"

Why am I telling you this?  What do you care?

"How did it end with your friends?"

"The girl never dumped the guy.  It was always the other way around.  And they would show off for the months they were together.  Smooching right in front of me all the goddam time.  And if their stories were true, they always got laid.  Couple times a week."

Marlon let his eyes wander to the window, towards the parking lot.  Luna was staring back inside, her glasses back on.

She knows.  This is a dream, and just like last time, she knows!  She knew Dashie would want to talk about it!

"Must have felt awful."

"It did.  Normally, I would have gotten over her in a few weeks, but I would see her all the time in school.  I didn't have any classes with her, though.  Just saw her in the halls."

"Did she ever kiss you at all?"

"No.  I should have.  I was too scared of my dad's advice to, though."

"When was your first?"

"Fourteen, with a girl who did a 180 and ditched me on the spot.  Never understood that, either.  Four years passed before I did it again."

She knows.  She's using Dashie to get me to talk about it.  And why the fuck is it working?

"Hey look, I think we ought to go.  Everybody's waiting for us," Marlon finally said.

"Yeah.  Yeah.  We should."

"One question before we go, though."

"What's that?"

"Why are you so interested?"

Dashie paused.

"I need to justify myself."

"Justify?"

"Yeah.  I need to know that... I'm not the only one."

"Only one who what?"

She sighed.

"Only one who had to wait too long."

"You have a similar story?"

"Yeah.  But we should go now.  You're right."

They stood up.

Marlon walked to the door and was about to open it when Dashie grabbed his shoulder and wung him around.

"This is for Lanie," she said, and planted a massive, wet smooch dead-center on his lips.  She grabbed his back and pulled herself in with squeezing force.  She stood there, staring into Marlon's shocked eyes for at least ten seconds.  There was an extremely faint smell of post-storm summer air.  Marlon noticed that she emitted an extreme amount of body heat; it was like standing next to a heat lamp.  He imagined that it was Lanie on the other end of his lips, and that that cold October night was ending as it should have.  Dashie pulled back and walked to her car without a word.  Marlon did the same.  The music (now Glycerine) came to an abrupt halt when he entered the mudroom.

Dashie entered her light-blue Prius and switched the engine on.  She had not told Marlon (he had never asked, as she had hoped; she had acted like she had not seen anything besides the obvious), but Luna had not only showed her Marlon's history with Lanie.  She had also showed clips from his home life.  Dashie would never forget the haunting image of the woman coming at the young Richie with a frying pan in the right hand, a Bible in the other.  Or the images of an even younger Marlon being savagely beaten by the church kids, while the other adults ignored him.  The scariest one was of the frying-pan woman slowly dragging a cleaver across the top of her right wrist, which was being used to hold open a Bible.  A low, rhythmic chant came from the woman's mouth.  Occasionally, the syllables were almost sung:

If your right hand (hand, hand, hand) c-c-c-causes you to si-i-i-i-i-n, c-c-c-cut it off and th-th-th-throw it away (way, way, way). A young boy's voice piped in, possibly nine, saying, Mom?  Are you OK?  Mom....  NO!  MOM!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO YOURSELF?!

C-c-c-come over here, Ri-i-ichard, my son.  I am God, s-s-s-speaking through your m-m-m-mother (mother, mother, mother).

M...mom?

Marlon moved closer to the horrific woman.  Her hair was frizzled, and her face was blanched.  Light from a sunset shone through unseen window blinds, making the kitchen seem cold and almost (industrial?).  Dashie would never forget the next image.  The one that would be burned into her head deeper than any other:

Look, Richard.  I am happy.  Look at the sign in your mother's blood (blood, blood, blood).

A large, red, exclamation-point-shaped stain sat on the page, nearly covering the whole thing.  It was obvious that the woman had made it herself, since the mark was jagged and showed signs of movement of the bloody wrist across the paper.  Dashie had immediately remembered a time in preschool, when she had hoofpainted "I love mommy!" (in red, of course) onto a piece of paper as a Mother's Day gift.  She had used the paint that had streaked across her leg slightly above the hoof-

Wrist.

-to make the dot on the exclamation point, so as not to waste any.  Her mother had given her a large hug in return come Mother's Day.

N... no.  Mom.  God didn't make it.  You did.  You did.  God didn't do it.

The cleaver blade slammed down into the kitchen counter, causing the tiles to shatter.  The frying pan woman lifted it back out with force, and gently batted at the wrist again with the blade, producing a faint *chok* with each bat.

I did do it, my son.  Do not deny me, or else I will cause your mother to kill you.  Blasphemers will not be tolerated in my kingdom.  Repent or suffer the eternal punishment.

The frying pan woman's voice was low and toneless.  Spoken like a true maniac.

I'll call a doctor!  Who knows how much blood you'll lose?

The woman whipped around in the blink of an eye (quite impressive for someone her weight) and touched the blade against Marlon's cheek before he could move away.  Her eyes stared directly into his, unblinking.  Emotionless.

Dead.

The left hand had the cleaver handle in a death-grip, and held the blade perfectly steady against Marlon's skin, the edge ready to dive into the hinge of his jaws.

Do... not... blaspheme, my son.  You will not only suffer the pain of Hell, but the pain of your mother's Hell before you go.  You will be punished for your sins, as your mother was punished for hers.  The sins of the fathers are passed down through the generations, which makes you as guilty as your father.

The dead voice again.  After a few closed-eyed seconds from the frying pan woman, the cleaver retracted and began batting again.

Your mother will be instructed to stop before she dies of blood loss.  I will keep her from the door of death.

After that, the image of the frying pan woman jumping off that bridge.

And would you cry if I told you that I lied?

And would you say goodbye, or would you let it ride?

It made Dashie happy to see that thing die.  That was when the history with Lanie began.

Dashie turned up the air conditioner to full blast.  Tears soundlessly flowed from her eyes.

Marlon got into the car next to Luna and started it.  She switched out the tape for Toto's Hydra.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I guess I'll show them main street; I don't know what else to do out here."

Luna tapped the car next to Marlon's (Fluffle Puff's) and mouthed, Follow us!  Pass it on!

Marlon shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.  The other cars followed.  He led them to Front Royal's old town main street.  Each car picked a spot at the beginning of the street, near the Alvin B. Stokes general store.  Once again, no cars were visible in any of the parking lots on the way there-KFC, Big Lots, 7-Eleven, some dumpy motel.  Nothing.

The six of them exited their cars and walked to the front of the general store, meeting Luna near an ancient Coke machine.

"Well, here we are," Luna said.  "Welcome to the land that time forgot."

The newcomers to the area (everyone except for Marlon) gazed at the world around them.  The road stretched on for a great length, ending at a bank with a dot-matrix marquee board in the distance.  The road's main eye-catcher was a massive building that had been converted into a tavern.  Judging by the worn label on its side, it was originally some sort of feed plant.  Trees and occasional benches lined either side halfway down the road, where the shops on either side began.

A cardinal *chip*-ped.  Fluttershy whirled around on her heels to see where the bird was, and was surprised to see it sitting in a large tree next to the store.

"Oh!  It's so cute!" she exclaimed.

"It's a cardinal," Marlon said.  "It's Virginia's state bird.  There was a tree in front of my first apartment that had a family of 'em living in it.  Though I'm not sure what it's doing in the dream."

"Atmospheric purposes," Luna said.

"Are there other bird types on Earth?" Fluttershy asked eagerly.

"Thousands.  And most of them are pretty damn cute."

"Oh!  I love birds!  I used to take care of them back home."

"Well, birds on Earth aren't so personal.  They don't like people coming too close to them, else they fly away."

"Oh, well that's OK.  Maybe they'll like me better if I'm back in pony form."

The red bird flew from the tree to brighten the atmosphere somewhere else.

"Holy shit," Spike said.  He stared through the window at a massive bear trap inside.  A green tag revealed a 400 dollar price.  He walked inside the open door to check the place out more thoroughly.  The rest followed.

"Oh!  I almost forgot!" Luna said.  She closed her eyes and-

Poof.

"Jane" and "Betty" appeared next to the Coke machine.  Their sunglasses were still on, and they stumbled at the shock of being teleported.  "Betty" clung to the side of the Coke machine to keep from falling off the sharp drop to a gravel side-driveway below.

"Come on, I think you'll like this place," Luna said.

'Least it ain't Apples' Assholes.

"Ah assume we can take the glasses off now?"

"Yes.  Go ahead."

"'Bout time!  Them things is dark!"

The two sisters removed their glasses.  Luna had been right.  Orange and yellow; yellow and red.  The latter was insanely creepy.

Directly inside the store was a large selections of various hunting equipment.  The store stretched ahead for two hundred feet or so.  Nearer to the back were massive quantities of work clothes and boots.

"Shee-oot," AppleJack said quietly.  She and Betty slowly made their way to the back of the place.

"So now what?" Dashie asked.  Fortunately, the lachrymal evidence had disappeared.

"Now," Luna said, kicking in the glass to a knife display case, "we look around this place and see if there's anything interesting to do."  She took a massive, G-shaped hunting knife out of the case and examined it carefully.

"Why'd you have to kick it in?" Marlon asked.

"Because this is a dream and there are no legal repercussions and I didn't want to go all the way around to the back of the case because there's too much junk back there and it looked like fun.  Any more questions?"  Luna replied with a massive finishing smile.

The group waded through the narrow main aisle.  Various target supplies and winter coats littered the right end of the place, behind the knives, and the left was riddled with more winter coats and jeans.  Marlon noticed that something was missing from the latter side of the store.

"You programmed this place from memory, right?"

"Yeah, so it might not be a hundred percent accurate." Luna replied.  She had been staring at the laser sights in the display case next to the knives.  The G-shaped knife was in a holster around her waist.

"But where's the rest of the stuff over here?  I remember that."

"What stuff?"

"The sa-"

"SSSHHHH!!" Luna said through her teeth, covering Marlon's mouth.  She knew that he was about to say "the saddle stuff," but tried to coax him away from the subject with a weak "what stuff?" question.  That side of the store had originally been dedicated to saddles and other horse-related accessories.

"They've never seen a real one before; I only know what they look like from one of your books-it had a horse on the front.  I want 'em to be really surprised when they first see one.  Seeing a real saddle would give away their size."

Marlon knew what the book was:  A Slightly Altered History of Gracefulness, by his old friend Corey Suthner.  It was a humor novel about a businessman who secretly sells cocaine to television writers who write TV shows based on their drug-fueled inspirations.  Marlon remembered one of his favorite scenes from the book:  the writers were forced to throw out a shoot of Barney the Dinosaur humping a glass-filled recycling bin, yelling to the camera that kids should only do this with grand-parental supervision.  The other thrown-out shoot was where Barney used a bottle of Icehouse as a fleshlight, only to wind up with his purple, green-spotted dick stuck inside.  He slammed the bottle against the tree in the playground to break off the end, causing yellow jizz to stain the bark.  He then chased his dinosaur pals around the playground while waving his dripping penis back and forth madly, threatening to "stuck" (a cross between "stab" and "fuck") them.  The janitor solved the problem by sitting in the idea chair.  Barney ran over to stuck him, but had his dickhead stuck in the slats of the chair just as the janitor got back up.  The janitor then spun the chair with such force that Barney had his purple, green-spotted dick ripped off, leaving only the green, yellow-haired balls behind among a wash of purple blood.  The shaft was then taken out of the bottle and thrown into the janitor's wood chipper, then sent to needy children in Africa.  The cover featured a blonde-haired man in a dark-grey suit riding a white horse through an open field (from a side view), staring and smiling at the reader with fists full of cash and a white-powdered nose.  The inspiration for the fucked-up book?  The author had written a similar story in middle school and wanted to revive it.

"So you don't want me to-"

"SSSHHHH!!"

"Sorry."

Luna began to eye a pair of jeans with pre-torn holes in them.  She picked them off of the rack, but Marlon rebutted her.

"No!  You can't just buy jeans with holes in 'em!  Ya gotta earn 'em!"

It was one of the few important lessons Marlon's father had taught him:  holes in jeans were a testament to ruggedness, and had to be earned the honest way, whether by guys or gals.

"Hm-hm.  Well I think I know how to solve that problem," Luna said to Marlon while leaning in towards his ear.  Marlon knew exactly what she meant by that.  The only way to earn holes was to use the knees, and Luna had seen an opportunity to accelerate the process.

Oh, she's good.

"And by the way, what do you think of me sleeping in your closet?  I know I asked you about it in the note, but forgot to ask you here."

"It's fine, I suppose," Marlon began as the two walked toward the back of the store.  Most of the other ponies were scattered about, looking at the various things.  The Apples were still in the back, trying on boots and, as of more recently, thin jackets.

Marlon had not been in the store in many years, and the look of the place as he walked brought back the memories.

In the middle of the store, a small counter area stood among various support pillars, making the thing look like a human-box.  Bags of various no-name candies littered the counter space, which made the walk to the back extremely cramped on the right.  To the left of the counter was the behemoth array of jackets and various camping supplies on floor-shelves, and to the right, the boots, whose shelves stretched to the ceiling.  The two sections were separated by a barred, metal framework which stretched from the top of the camping supply floor-shelves to the ceiling.  The metal beams made Marlon think of prison bars.  Fluorescent lights shone down with a harsh glow.

"My only concern is if other people will find out."

"Oh, they won't.  I can pull an invisibility spell if somebody comes in and checks around the closet.  Of course, I can't see why they'd snoop around your room anyway."

"They probably wouldn't, but one can never be too careful."

"Indeed."

Marlon walked over to AppleJack, who was sitting on a bench, lacing up a pair of brown Red Wings.  He sat down next to the now-more-anthropomorphic-than-ever-anthropomorphic-horse-thing.  He noticed a slight smell of apples.

Hm.  They all seem to smell like something, if I take time to notice it.  Wonder what Celestia smells like?

"Shee-oot, Rich!  Ah sure am glad y'all brought us out here."

"Well, technically, I didn't bring you anywhere; we're all inside my head."

"Ah know, ah know, but this here mem'ry's startin' ta remind me a'home.  See, the great thing 'bout Equestria was that the countryside'n the cityside were nice'n close.  Ah could live on a nice'n rural apple farm while still seein' mah friends.  Problem is, it ain't that way out here, so I'm'a hafta make the most'a the time out'n these parts as ah can."

"Well you'd love Texas.  Probably 90 percent country."

"Shee-oot!  Is it far?"

"Couple days by car, couple hours by plane."

"Well that don't sound none too hard!"

"But it's expensive.  Plane tickets aren't cheap."

"Well, y'all said sum'n 'bout jobs, right?  Well, all ah gotta do is save some money to take a li'l trip."

"Four hundred."

"Whuh?"

"Four hundred dollars for a ticket from Reagan to Hobby, last time I checked."

"Nah, that ain't so bad!"

Oh, the optimism.  Quite similar to the whimsy.

"Well, it's good y'all lemme in on that, cuz I'm gonna start the trip plannin' once the jobs get runnin'!"

Oh, the optimism.

AppleBloom walked back over to the bench, wearing a yellow fleece jacket.

"Whadda y'all think, sis?" she asked.

"That ain't lookin' right on ya as a human.  Try sum'n a li'l darker.  And besides, it ain't cold."

"Well, ya never really can tell!  Like that time when all them anvil clouds came in an'-"

"Yeah, yeah, ah remember them anvil clouds.  Don't need any more remindin'."

"Well, ah'm'a take y'all's advice on this'un.  Better find a darker shade."

AppleBloom walked back to the coat assortment.  Through the bars, Marlon saw that Dashie was staring into a mirror, admiring herself in a new pair of stonewashed Wranglers, and Fluttershy was staring into the camping supply shelf at some unknown object.  She looked up to meet his eyes, then quickly took them down to the shelf again.

DAMN!  Why does that act have to be so cute?

Fluffle puff munched on circus peanuts next to the counter.  She stared to the end of the boot aisle, focusing on the neon Red Wing sign.  Marlon rose and walked over to her.

"Hi.  I don't believe I've introduced myself directly to you.  Richard Marlon," Marlon began, holding out his hand to Fluffle puff, who had a circus peanut hanging out of her mouth like a cigar.  It wiggled back and forth, indicating slow chewing.

Fluffle stared at the hand, then back at Marlon.  Hand.  Marlon.  Hand.  Marlon.  She swallowed the peanut and let out a high gasp, then flung herself into him with a crushing embrace.  She began to lightly pat his back.  He hugged her back out of politeness.  She smelled like an old rug-warm, but slightly musty.  Her arms moved around his back and put another circus peanut in her mouth.

The hug lasted for quite a while.

"Fluffle?  Could you maybe... let go?"

"OK!" she said.  Twilight would have had the same voice had she inhaled a large quantity of helium.

She let go of Marlon, then dug into her bag for another circus peanut, which she shoved into his mouth.  He hated the damn things, but he chewed and swallowed to be polite.  Fluffle's tongue hung out of her mouth comedically through a large grin.

"Uh... thanks.  What did you do back on Equestria for a living?"

Fluffle reached into her shirt and pulled out a picture for just such an occasion:  a picture of herself next to a smiling, sea-green pegasus with matching hair.  Each wore an old-timey diner hats.  The picture looked as if it had been taken in the 70's; the ponies were in a room with bile-yellow carpeting, and they stood next to a decorative wooden framework (often seen on Earth as a divider between foyers and living rooms) that jutted from the right side of the picture.  The room they were in went back for another thirty feet, and ended in a wooden wall, which led to a bland, grey ceiling.  The right, visible side of a long party table covered by a yellow tablecloth stretched the depth of the room on the left of the picture.  On the right side of the table, ponies sat in grey chairs in front of plates of steaks and fries.  Green liquid filled most of the glasses next to the plates.  Marlon saw a few ponies he recognized:  AppleJack, Derpy, and Dashie.  A purple pony with matching hair waved to the camera, her eyelids hanging low, as if she had been drunk when the picture was taken.  To complete the look, the whole picture looked as if had been shit on; the whole thing had a brown tint.

Fluffle turned the picture over.  A note on the back read:

Dear Fluffle,

Remember the Baltimare Community Center?  Those were some great times, eh?  Been twenty years now since it was torn down.  '75, right?  That would make it twenty.  Anyway, I wrote to say I'm moving back to Ponyville.  It's been a good twelve years in Sesaddle, but it's getting hard to find a job.  A wave of immigrants from the rest of Equestria a few years back destroyed the job market.  Turns out the Appleoosans are really good with shopkeeping.  I'll be taking a train that leaves on the eighth.  I should be back by the fourteenth or so.

Your Pal,

-Sprinkle Medley  

Fluffle put the picture back in her shirt.  Marlon noticed that the pink fuzz that came out of her sleeves did not correspond to her arm movements.

Oh, thank God!  It's only the inside of the jacket.

"What was the exact year that was taken?  Which millennium were you in?"

"Mil, 380 thou, 971."

"One million, 380 thousand, nine-seventy-one?"

Fluffle nodded.

"Two eras:  B.E. (before evolution) and A.E. (after evolution).  Before and after the pony race evolved."

"Interesting.  Hey, look.  I'm gonna go to Flutters now, OK?"

Fluffle gave him a massive, death-grip hug.  She let him go and waved while making a raspberry.  Marlon turned around and walked to Flutters.  He leaned back against the shelf she had been staring at.  It held a battery-operated Coleman lantern and a MAPP gas welder.

What the fuck kind of a combination is that?

"What do you need those for, Flutters?"

"I'm only looking at the welder."

"That's an even better question:  what would you possibly be welding?"

"Nothing.  But the girls are always telling me that I need some sort of way to defend myself, since I'm not much of a fighter.  I think one of these can give an assailant a bit of a warning burn."

"Warning burn?  That'll melt flesh clean off your body!"

"Oh, goodness!  I don't want to do that!"

"And everybody's gonna be scared of you already carrying one of those things around."

"Oh!  I don't want to really hurt anyone-just maybe ward them off a little."

"Well, if you want some real protection, get one of these."

Marlon walked over to the kicked-in knife display case and pulled out a spring assisted, serrated, mind-fuckingly painful knife.

"Try this," he said, placing the knife in Fluttershy's hand."

"Oh!  But this will hurt them even more!"

"Depends on where you use it.  And you can stitch up a knife wound if it's not too bad.  Melted flesh is a bit harder to replace.  I could pick you up a non-dream one sometime and tell the army guys to let you keep it, if you'd like."

"But I could never do that!  Everyone would be scared of me!"

"I don't exactly think you have the face of a murderer."

"But this looks..."

Fluttershy pushed up the knob on the hinge of the blade.  It sprung open.

"EEP! ...really painful."

"Do you want to actually scare off an assailant?  One of these'll do the trick.  Too bad this is only a dream-knife."

Fluttershy pushed down on the blade to close it and clicked on the safety switch.  Marlon found it bizarre that she knew how to work one of these things, even though she had never used one.

"It's nice of you to think of me like this, but I'm... scared to stab anyone.  Is there anything less... threatening to the user?"

"But that's the point.  You need to look threatening so nobody fucks with you."

"But I don't want to stay a virgin the rest of my life!"

Marlon almost burst into laughter.  Luna heard Fluttershy, and began to chuckle.

"No, not like that.  I mean messes with you.  Tries to rough you up a bit!"

"I... think I've changed my mind.  I don't really mind being defenseless.  Really.  It's nothing."

"Well you've got to learn to do something, if not stabbing.  What do your friends usually do?"

"AppleJack bucks, Twilight uses magic to blast victims with lasers, Dashie just flies away super fast-she doesn't even need to fight anything, Pinkie uses her party cannon set to full blast, and Rarity uses her magic to make swarms of sewing needles appear to stab victims to death."

"Jesus Christ!"

"And I've got nothing."

"You don't want to punch, stab, or have any sort of violent direct physical contact.  Am I right?"

"Yes."

"How 'bout a gun?" Marlon asked slyly for comedic effect.  He imagined shadows running in to cover his face like in a dramatic scene in a movie.

"But that would hurt more than any other!"

"Yeah, but you don't have to have any physical contact with the bad guy."

"Look, this isn't working.  Nopony's ever tried to really hurt me before.  I've changed my mind.  Really."

"But I'd feel bad if you ever did get hurt.  There are some really crazy people on Earth."

Dashie had been about to try on another pair of jeans, but stopped dead when she heard Marlon say that.  Luna saw from nearby and walked over to console her.  She put an arm around Dashie's back and sat down beside her on a bench.  She spoke quietly so as not to have Marlon overhear:  "Do you want me to wipe your memory?"

"I'm not sure.  If I forget, then he'll notice that I'm not as sympathetic to him."

"I can wipe his memory, too.  He won't remember you kissing him (nice move, by the way), and you won't remember his mother."

"But why?  Why do humans like that have to exist?"

"I looked it up in one of his books:  this mania is a relatively common human birth defect, but it rarely escalates to that level.  And most of this society seems to be based on religion, judging by his journal.  It seems to be a socially acceptable outlet for manics."

"Nobody deserves to live through that.  And Lanie.  That was adding insult to injury."

"I know.  It's good you didn't see his father.  Or his elementary school teachers.  Or the middle school kids.  Or his high school teachers.  Or his-"

"No!  Stop!"

Dashie began to cry silently.

"Nobody deserves it.  Nobody!"

Luna hugged her in consolation.

"Do you still want the wipe?"

"N-no.  It'll serve as a re-re... minder.  Of why I can never ever make f-f... fun of him."

Marlon had finished up his discussion, having it result in an "I'll think of something to do, don't worry" from Fluttershy.  He went to find Spike, who had gone outside for a smoke.  Marlon saw the top of his head through the shop window and walked out.

Spike was sitting down against the brick wall below the window, a Kool hanging from his mouth.  Marlon sat down beside him and pulled a Winston from his pocket and lit it with his handy-dandy Bic.

"So, what's it like being a dragon?"

"Not much different than a human, I suppose.  'Cept I can breathe fire and have super thick, pain-resistant scales," Spike replied, not shifting his gaze from the road in order to keep the conversation nonchalant.

"Did you like your assistant job on Equestria?"

"I guess it was OK.  Not a whole lot of excitement, though."

"I can understand.  I've known some secretaries in my day."

Oh, I'm sorry.  Did I say 'known?'  I meant 'sexually annihilated.'

"Do you ever get bored with your job?"

"Not bored; tired of.  Seems the only people who hate me are my coworkers."

"Isn't that normal in a power position?"

"In the movies, yes, but I wouldn't think in real life.  Most of the people out there like me, but the guys in the executive branch, the vice president, the guards, the cabinet.  The guys in Congress, the justices, the works.  They think I should be dumb and boring like my predecessors."

"Who wants a leader who's dumb and boring?"

"That's what I said!  Seriously!  They made bumper stickers based on it!"

"Where is this 'vice president?'"

"Vacation in Tucson.  He's a very solitary man; he absolutely refuses to be interrupted on any vacation.  He figures if there's some global crisis, I can take care of it OK.  I'd only call him if I'm totally fucked."

"How do you spell that?"

"T-U-C-S-O-N."

"Who put the 'C' there?"

"No clue."

"Where is it?"

"Really fuckin' far away."

"Ah.  That narrows it down real good."

Spike stubbed out his Kool and lit another with a black Zippo, most likely borrowed from Luna.

"But you get the gist.  It's a bit worrisome is all."

"I can see why you'd think so.  But you seem cool to me.  Nice and laid back.  Some dumb and boring guy woulda killed me by now for being a dragon."

"Thanks.  It's nice to hear that.  Again."

"Don't mention it.  Part of the job."

"So what's it like being the only dragon in town?"

"Sucks.  No dragons to fuck senseless."

"Didn't Twilight say you were thirteen?"

"Yeah, so?  Dragons start their sexual primes around that time.  The ponies get it at around ten and keep it 'til they get old and wrinkly.  Weird as shit, if you ask me."

"Just curious.  Humans hit it between twelve and thirty... I think.  But it's a bit odd to see two thirteen-year-olds doing it.  Fifteen-year-olds I could believe, but thirteen seems a little young."

"You're a human.  I'm a dragon.  We're different."

"Yes....  You're right."

"Word on the lawn is that you've had a lot of mates."

Damned army guys!

"So?"

"I know it's a little early, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Does it have to do with fucking something of another species?"

"First off, don't act like that weirds you out; I know about everything.  Second, not on your part."

"Celestia told you?"

"You know it."

"Dammit."

"Don't worry, man.  Luna's fuckin' famous for that.  Don't think you're the only one, ohhhh no.  Princess of the night?  Expert on all night-time activities?  Two plus two equals four?  I won't tell any others, but watch who you tell.  Some ponies aren't so secret-friendly."

"Yeah, I get it.  So back to that favor...."

"Ah, yes.  As you can tell, it's hard being the only dragon in town for reasons previously mentioned.  So, I've become attracted to Rarity."

"Are you shitting me?"

"Nope.  Not a bit.  Since you know stuff about females of your own species-courtship, mainly-I was hoping that you could give me some tips on winning her over."

"You're serious...?"

"Yep.  I'll be honest with you; she's pretty hot if you look at her in the right way.  Something about her is just as attractive to me as a dragon female would be."

"But I'm not sure about your planet's customs on dating."

"Doesn't matter.  From the books I've read, it doesn't seem like sentient beings have much differences in expressing affection.  At least back home."

"I mean... I can try.  But don't expect any lasting results."

"Noted."

Marlon noticed how strange it was to hear Spike speak with this intelligent tone of voice; it was a polar opposite from his normal one.  It was possible that the seriousness of Rarity had completely changed his personality.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"How to win someone over of a completely different personality type."

"Yeah, I've seen her.  Nobody I know has that personalty type.

Well, I would start by getting Celestia or Luna to change you into humans during your date, so it won't seem so far-fetched to the others in the fancy restaurant you should take her to."

"OK.  And then?"

Spike had taken a small notepad and a pen out from his pocket.  He began to take notes.  From Marlon's perspective, the young man in front of him, with the black emover, Spelunker's shirt, Kool hanging from his mouth, chain wallet, previously-unseen anchor tattoo on his right arm, and purple-and-green eyes looked like a homeless, washed-up Blue's Clues host.

A clue, you say?  Oh, you're right!  There's a blue pawprint on Sidetable Drawer.  I'll bet that little fucknut has some money on him!

"Hold up.  First, we have to work on getting her to agree.  Do you know anything about fashion?"

"Nope.  I'm in the 'don't know shit' category."

"Is there anything else she's even remotely interested in?"

"Gems."

"OK, do you know anything about those?"

"I eat 'em.  I know damn near every kind."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa.  You eat gems?  As in emerald, ruby, sapphire, amethyst 'n shit?"

"Yep.  Dragon teeth are the second hardest things known to ponies.  The only things I can't chew are diamonds.  They hurt like a bitch."

"OK, well, have you tried suggesting new gems for her extremely elaborate dresses?"

"Yeah.  Didn't do any good in the ways of physical attraction though.  I did get a smooch out of her, but it wasn't one of those 'kiss me you fool' smooches; one of those 'you're the best friend a pony could ever have' ones on the cheek."

"Apparently humans aren't the only ones who get friendzoned."

You're a really great guy.  Don't ever think otherwise.  And I'm sure you'll make some other girl very happy.  But I think we should just be friends, you know?  And see other people.

Marlon tried not to visibly pause at the memory.

Which led to another.

Please fix my mom's brain!

Which led to another.

And would you cry if I told you that I lied...?

And another.

Rule number one.  Do you remember it?  It has nothing to do with you.  It's between me and your mommy.  Got it?

Another.

This is my new girlfriend, Dolly, kids.

Another.

Sources say that Aurelie had been on a trip to New York to visit her brother before she was tragically killed.

Another.

I think we should see other people.  I'm not cut out to be a president's girlfriend.

Another.

That was a great time, Richard.  But men in power just aren't my type after all.

Another.

Ew.  Why the fuck do you think I'd want to do you again tonight, you fuckin' pervert?  I'm leaving you and this retard city.

"Richard?"

PLEASE FIX MY MOM'S BRAIN!!

"Richard?  You OK, man?"

Marlon had not noticed before, but he had paused.  Visibly.

"Yeah.  I'm fine."  Marlon had been staring at the concrete below him when he had trailed off into the swirl of memories.  "I'm sorry for scarin' you."

"Memories?"

"How'd you know?"

"Gets everybody, human or not.  We all have those little spells."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, man.  It's perfectly natural."

YOUR BODY HAS BEEN CONSUMED BY SATAN WITH HIS UNNATURAL URGES!  GET BEHIND ME, SATAN, AND TAKE YOUR PUPPET WITH YOU!!!

"Y... yeah.  Natural."

"Do you have any more tips, or should we call it a day?  It's not right of me to bring old stuff up."

"Uh... I... I think I'll be fine."

"You sure, man?  You look a little pale."

"No, I'm not sure.  It's my own fault.  I shouldn't have said that... thing."

"I know what ya mean."

"Look, I don't want to abandon you in your... uh... time of need.  I need to take a breather is all.  I'll be back to it soon."

"Well, we can only talk about this when none of the others are around.  It's gonna hafta be a bit of a longterm effort."

"No problem.  I'll help you.  I understand what it's like to have a long-time crush, and I think it's a good cause.  In fact, I'll do what I always do for longterm projects:  give it a name."

"What's the purpose of that?"

"One, it sounds cool.  And two, if I write down reminders in my schedule book with 'project' in the name so I don't forget it and one of my friends finds it, they'll know not to blab it around if it sounds that official."

"What are you gonna call it?"

"Hm... it's a plan to get Spike with Rarity... and it's a longterm effort....  I've got it!  'Project Sparity!'"

"That's the best you could think up?  Nothing that sounds different than our names put together?"

"OK, then you think one up."

Spike thought for a few seconds, then shrugged:  "I got nothin'.  Project Sparity it is."

Luna walked out of the store, along with Fluffle, Dashie, and Fluttershy.

"The Apples decided to stay in and check out the boots.  Let's see what else there is to do," Luna announced.

Marlon was immediately reminded of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; the whole "let's look around and leave the kids behind in their favorite parts of the factory" story.

Now all we need is a Scary Tunnel.

There was nothing else to do except walk down the road and enjoy the dream-air.  Marlon wondered exactly how much more exposure Luna wanted to give the others of him, which would control how long the dream dragged on.  He felt awkward to be in the position of showing people around a town he had not been to in years.  It was like ad libbing, but with no ideas to springboard from.

As they walked, Marlon noticed that there was another person standing in front of a building far ahead.  It looked vaguely like a-

Wait a minute... what the fuck is that thing?

-person initially, but its form changed to include bizarre curves as he approached.  It did not move to greet them; it only stood still, facing the group, half-obstructed by a wall that jutted out from another building's side.  It was about (a foot?) shorter than Marlon, but matched the height of a few of the others.

"What is that thing?" Marlon whispered to Luna, who walked on his left.

"Take a look.  It's from an old memory."

The group finally reached the shape, which stood in front of an out-of-place department store.  It turned its head and entire neck to reveal-

It's that thing from Angel Dust!

-a heron.  A great blue heron.  In Front Royal.  Far away from water.  In front of a department store.  Not giving a flying fuck about the humans.

"What is that thing doing here?" Marlon asked.

"I brought it here to see if Fluttershy would be-"

"Oh!  A heron!" Fluttershy exclaimed, and walked up to the human-sized bird.  It stared blankly at her, occasionally moving its head around to see her in different angles.

"You had herons on Equestria?"

"Yep.  Not many of 'em, but we trained a few to carry mail.  I brought it here to give a bit more of that "back home" feeling to Fluttershy."

Marlon remembered the first time he had seen a heron in person.  During a trip to Texas when he was eleven, Marlon went fishing at a pond next to his aunt's house.  He remembered seeing the boy at the other end of the pond's walkway, staring at the pond's other shore.  After a few seconds of staring, Marlon realized that it was a heron, and watched in amazement as it lifted its freakishly-large body into the air.  Something about that scene had been poetic at the time.  Marlon found that if a bird that large could leave its problems behind by flying away, he could, too.  The first wingbeats were heavy and strenuous, but once it was in the air, the journey was much smoother.  Marlon believed that deep down, he was like a heron, and would one day leave all his troubles behind with a few strenuous wingbeats and a bunch of easy ones (metaphorically speaking).

"It's so cute!" Fluttershy said, looking the bird over all around.  It stared at her blankly.  She lifted her hand and gently rested it down on the bird's head.  It stared at her blankly.  She slowly ran her hand down its neck.  It stared at her blankly.  She repeated the process.  It stared at her blankly.

"Why isn't it doing anything?" Marlon asked Luna.

"I 'programmed' it, if you will, to act like the ones back home, which would let you pet them.  I know they don't do that here, and I know this thing's way out of place, but... ya know, it's for Fluttershy," she whispered back.

"Quite the placebo."

"Indeed.  I'm not sure how Earth birds will react to ponies, but they'll probably fly away in fear just like they do for humans."

"But she'll feel terrible if she can't interact with the animals."

"Well, not all animals are afraid of humans, right?"

"No, not all.  Tons of animals don't care about human presence."

"Alright, good.  If that weren't the case, I could just simulate their Equestria-like behaviors, but she'd eventually get into a 'this isn't real life' slump."

"Another question:  you said last night I'd know if you accessed by memories.  So why did I go through all of today and not think about the Apple House?"

"For playback.  It's a weird magical principle, but putting things from memories in dreams has no visual repercussions on the dreamer, while strict memory playback does.  It probably has something to do with the fact that memory 'copying' requires so little magic to be performed on the dreamer."

"I will never understand magic."

"Oh, you will, with a little reading."

Fluttershy continued to pet the bird.  Marlon began to wonder how his dreams would be carried out from now on.  Would they be normal-looking with a few oddities like the heron, or totally fucked-up like that commercial about the beaver and Abe Lincoln?

The cardinal flew down to the tree next to Fluttershy.  A catbird followed, making its signature EEEAAAAA sound.  A house sparrow.  A starling.  A wren.  A titmouse.  A grackle.  A grey nuthatch.  A blue jay.  A chickadee.  Fluttershy looked up at them, then sat on the bench.  The birds all landed on the edges; some on her shoulders, *chip*-ping and EEEAAAAA-ing and NYAH-NYAH-NYAH-NYAH-NYAH-ing away like mad.  The heron walked over behind the bench and rested its head on Fluttershy's shoulder.

"What the fuck...?" Marlon whispered.  "That's how animals responded to her?"

"Yep.  All the time.  It's some deep vibe-system thing."

Fluttershy sat on the bench happily, looking like a demonic, yellow-eyed Snow White.  She petted the birds gently while they stared at her blankly.  The heron let out a sound like a creaking board.

"Oh!  They're so adorable!"

"I take it you want time to be with the birds?"

I'll share this-a lonely view....

"It would be nice.  I love them all!"

The blue jay lit on her shoulder and rubbed against her cheek like a cat.  The Regular Show would not make its debut for another year-and-a-half, but it if had already, Marlon would have imagined the Hm-Hm.  Hm-Hm-Hm line.

What the fuck?

The group continued on, leaving the demonic-eyed Snow White there on the bench, smiling intensely, as if she had just begun summer vacation.

Luna spotted an antique store on the other side of the road and suggested they go inside.  Spike, Marlon, Fluffle, and Dashie followed.

Inside the store which Marlon had not seen for ages, massive cupboards blocked the view of the store from the entrance.  Once around the side, an expanse of ancient furniture stretched for a considerable distance, only broken by a metal support beam in the center of the room and a bucket to catch water that dripped down from an overhead pipe.  The store was well-lit as always, but the empty counter made it creepy to Marlon.  A light smell of must stained the air pleasantly (Marlon had always been a fan of the musty smell; it reminded him of his grandfather's crawlspace and the ancient boxes of books and Lionel trains).

"Why are we in here?" Dashie asked.

"Because it's cool, that's why," Luna replied.  She was intently gazing at an archaic radio cabinet on the right side of the store, next to a case of old Camel lighters and a rack of Time magazines from all across the 20th century, which was next to an empty doorway to another small section of the store.  "You might find some cool stuff in here that you might be able to get in the real world.  Think of it as window-shopping."

Luna turned on the bizarrely functional radio.  A song, halfway finished, began to slide from the speaker.  Marlon did not recognize it; it must have been from a subconsciously stored memory.  The bright, folky tune was eerie in its age and obscurity.  He could have sworn he recognized the voice, but the song sounded like nothing he had heard in the past twenty years.

Thus he danced and clapped through the night

And with grey morning light he was gone

"I don't remember that one," Marlon said.

"It's too old for you to.  It's from a subconsciously stored memory from your youngest days.  You heard it on one of your father's 45's, but he wound up giving it away."

Marlon tried to remember his father's 45 collection, but he could not place the song.  He remembered the records of Runaround Sue, The Rain, the Park, and Other Things; American Pie, Sunshine of Your Love, How Sweet It Is, and Race Among the Ruins, but this one continued to escape him.

"It's The Elf, by Al Stewart," Luna said.  Marlon still could not remember.  His father had had Rod Stewart records, but he knew little of Al apart from Time Passages.

"Anything in particular you want us to look for?" Dashie asked flatly.  This place was obviously boring her.

"Look in the back right.  I stocked it with memory-music," Luna said, indicating the back-left of the store, which included a massive selection of ancient records and cardtable holding a turntable on top of a receiver, whose wires connected to speakers on the floor.  Dashie and Fluffle went to investigate.  Spike had opened the display case and began to flick the lighters.

"Damn things don't even work," he mumbled.

"I don't think they're really supposed to.  Can I have mine back?"

"Oh.  Yeah, sure."

Spike returned the Zippo to Luna's pocket.  A slight smirk grew on her face as he dropped it in.

"How long are we going to stay here?" Marlon asked.

"I dunno.  As long as they want to, I guess.  Say, I didn't ask:  did you like my plan?"

"I had a feeling it was yours.  That pen was blue."

"Yep.  It works like a memory card, and your hand is the reader.  Simply pick up the enchanted pen, and the stored information on the blue surface is zapped into your brain.  Pretty cool, huh?"

"I thought you said hypnosis was hard."

"It is.  But that isn't hypnosis; it's thought-seeding.  All I have to do is cast a spell for the stored idea, then a retainer spell to keep it on the surface of the pen, which will change color depending on whose idea it was.  Getting that color out's the tricky part, as you're now aware."

A needle descended onto a record somewhere.  Keep the Fire Burnin' began playing loudly.  Luna turned the radio off.

"Hm.  Seems they've found something," she mused.

"You really like Earth music," Spike said, inspecting a Truman campaign button from the lighter display case.

"Oh, yeah.  It's great.  Don't you remember the Bit-ty Twisters?"

"Yes, I remember the Bit-ty Twisters," Spike said with an exasperated sigh.

Marlon laughed, saying, "what the fuck kind of name is that?" in between gasps.

"Play on the phrase "titty twister," as you might know.  They were a famous rock band back home.  Spike wasn't much into them on account of their lead singer's squeaky voice."

"I don't understand how anypony could have liked them."

"And then there were Fresh Squee'd, Heart in Hoof, Pinkamena and the Pies, Breezy, and my personal favorite, The Panels."

"Pinkie was in a band?"

"Yep.  Not for long, though.  They only set out three albums before they broke up.  Pinkie sang."

Marlon found it difficult to imagine Pinkie having an attention span large enough to keep a song going.

"How long are we supposed to stay here?" Spike asked when he had finished inspecting the stuff in the case.

"You were the ones who wanted to look at Richard in his natural habitat.  Are you all tired of this place?"

"A little," Dashie called from the music pile.  Marlon stepped away from the lighter case to find Fluffle with Summertime Dream sticking out of her mouth, gently sucking at the cardboard.

That's one hell of a bizarre habit.

"I don't really... find all this Earth stuff all that interesting, truth be told," Spike added.

"Hm.  Let me think of a better place to go."

Luna closed her eyes under the glasses, judging by the muscle contractions on the side, and thought.

"Go through that door," she told Marlon.  "Everybody go through that door.  Let's try something."

Marlon looked through the door to the right of the case.  Nothing was inside except for a smaller room with more bookcases and an old chicken-wire cupboard.

"Luna, I don't think there's anything different in there," Marlon whispered, slightly afraid to insult the leader by pointing out that her magic was so powerful that it could transport a human and a bunch of aliens into the same dream, but could not change the appearance of a portal.

"Of course there is.  Go look."

Marlon walked through the empty doorway and down a large step with a crude "mind the gap" sign on the floor in front.

There was nothing different.  Wooden walls.  Old dressers with various knick-knacks on their tops. Books to the right, behind the display window.  Sewing machines and treadle boards to the far left, one with a lamp affixed to the top by wires that ran through the main unit.  The rest of the group followed.

"He's right.  There's nothing different, Spike said.

A door slammed from behind.  The group whipped around to see a large metal door in the frame, whose lock clicked from within.  There was no handle on their side, only a bathroom-style metal panel.  Luna was not in the room.

"Want something more interesting?" Luna's muffled voice said from behind the door.  "How 'bout a psychological experiment?  Oooh, I love these!"

"What are you doing, Luna?" Marlon asked in a "eeyy, c'mann" tone of whimsy.

Oh, the whimsy.

"How's 'bout a little game?  I've been working on this for a while, and you guys gave me juuuuusstt the right conditions to work it into a dream."

The scenario reminded Marlon of Saw, except far less intimidating.  This time, Marlon knew what the game was.  There could only be one game with Luna around.

"This room has actually been changed; you just haven't noticed it yet.  The glass looking out to the street has been reinforced to triple thickness, and if you look at different parts of the room, you'll see tiny cameras sticking out from the walls.  Do you have an idea of where this is going?"

"What's the purpose of this?" Dashie asked with impatience.

"As I said, it's a psychological experiment.  I want to see what happens when you leave a group of three different species with one common body type in the same room together and record the results.  It could actually prove beneficial in future therapy sessions.  And you get what you wanted now.  You get to see Marlon in a more interesting natural habitat.  I'll be looking in from a monitor and listening to the records Fluffle hasn't chewed up yet.  Don't have too much fun!"

The four of them heard footsteps walking away, then an incredibly faint intro to Say Hello 2 Heaven.

"You had to say you wanted something more interesting, didn't ya, Spike?" Dashie said.

"Hey, you were gettin' bored in there, too!  Don't blame all this on me!"

"Guys, guys!  No point in fighting now!" Marlon said to calm the two.  "You all know what she wants.  If we give her a show, we can get out faster, OK?"

"No way, man!" Spike retorted.

"Oh, quit bein' a wimp, Spike.  We all know about the pillow," Dashie said jokingly.  Spike wound up to bash her jaw clean open with an uppercut, but Marlon pushed down the arm with all his weight.

"Cut it out, man!  Why are you so angry about this?" Marlon said, regaining his breath.

"I wouldn't be if Dashie would stop pissin' me off!"

"Dashie!  Stop pissin' him off!  Spike!  Cut it out!  Fluffle...."

Fluffle looked back at the other three from the examination of the sewing machine lamp-thing.

"Huh?"

"Keep doin' that."

"I ain't doin' it with Dashie!   I'm too riled up!"

"Spike, Spike, seriously.  Cut it out.  Nobody said you had to do it with her.  You don't even have to do anything if you don't want to.  But why is that idea so angering?"

"'Cause she knows, man.  She knows everything."

"Whoa.  Knows what?"

---

Luna sat at the music station with a Mega Watchman on a card table in front of her.  Temple of the Dog's self-titled album spun on the turntable behind her.  The Watchman displayed a black-and-white image of the arguers from a ceiling-oriented angle.  Occasionally, Luna used a small remote in her hand to switch between various camera views, one of which was inside one of the sewing machines.  Fluffle raspberried when she saw the lens jutting out of the main unit just below the lamp.  Saliva covered the lens.

"Dammit, Fluffle!"

Luna poofed up a can of Pringles, a notepad, and a pen.  She began to write down notes while switching through the angles, occasionally using a Pringle to keep her magic up (Luna had always found it ironic that the magic-replenishing food could be poofed up with magic itself, and she could never find a spell to work around the bizarre phenomenon).

EARTH EXPERIMENT 2:  What happens when you put three different species in human form in one room together?

-Large amount of initial argument

-No participation from the fourth party

-Laughter at explanation of "the pillow"

-Resulting action of embarrassment from third party.  Still does not explain initial burst of anger.  Must conduct other experiments to determine where that came from.  Too strong to be just from embarrassment.

-Dropping of... pants by first party

-Second party... licking head of first party's penis....

Luna stood up and watched the scene continue.  Spike watched from atop an old dresser while Dashie felt up the young Marlon's dick with her tongue, almost as if licking the initial blob off a Jello cap.  She pulled the needle from the record and walked back to the door.  She pressed her head up to the door to listen.

"Wow, you're pretty good at this, Dashie."

"Thnkth.  I tried thith a foo timeth back un Equuthreeuh.  Hoo lung do I haftha doo thith?"

"You can stop whenever you want to, if you want to try something else."

"Dammit, I'm tireda watchin' this.  Hey, Fluffle!  You wanna try somethin' new?"

"Sure thing!"

Luna had expected this to happen eventually, but a sudden (shock?) came over her.  She could not explain the feeling; she had never felt it before.  Was it jealousy?  No, it couldn't be.  No reason to be jealous of sex; she knew what it felt like.  And she had conducted experiments like these before-experiments when she observed others doing it.  It made no sense that she should suddenly feel like-  

They're leaving me out.

Luna backed up to the support pillar opposite the doorway, pulled off her clothes, and focused on the door.  It disappeared with a snap of her fingers.  Inside, Marlon turned around, penis fully erect, hanging, and tilting slightly to the right.  Dashie backed away.

Luna began to run full-blast at Marlon, and in a fraction of a second, performed a levitation spell to lift Marlon's hanging penis to a horizontal position and a smoothing spell to soften the harsh carpet behind the president-to-be.  She lept into the air with such speed that her vagina was penetrated mid-air by Marlon's dick.  As the two fell backward, Luna adopted a kneeling position, causing her to power-slide until the two hit the wall, which was now rubberized by a later spell.  She played an air guitar for those two seconds between insertion and impact.

"Sweet 'Tia!" Dashie yelled.

Marlon and Luna panted heavily; one from exhaustion, the other from fear.

"What... was... that?!"

"That was the Power Slide Glide N' Ride (patent pending)."

Spike and Fluffle stared over from a dresser next to the sewing machines, wide-eyed.  Fluffle was bent over the dresser, pantless (and shaven), and Spike had just been removing his underpants.  Spike decided to catch Fluffle off-guard and jammed his dick into her fluff-less slit.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed.  Spike simply stayed inside, grinning proudly.

"I didn't think this stuff would start that quickly, so I decided to come and join while the gettin' was good."

Marlon felt Luna squeezing his dick with her vaginal walls, applying an oddly strong pressure exactly as he remembered Amy loved to do.  He gazed at the breasts he had not seen for so long.  They were the kind that started from the chest with a sharp rise and went down straight, then diverted in each direction toward the lower "body."

Luna dove down to smooch him; Spike took the invitation and began sliding in and out of Fluffle.  Her mouth twisted at the side with pressed lips.

"Dashie!  Come on!" Luna exclaimed while sitting back up.  "And move a bit to the side, would you, Rich?"

Marlon moved to his side so as not to be jammed up against the wall.  Dashie sat on his face, her ass cheeks covering his face.  He felt her asshole against his nose.  Chocolate.  He sent his tongue flying up to her snatch.  Sugar-water.  The unseen Luna bounced up and down on his dick slowly, but gripping viciously, as if milking it out.

Marlon smelled that trademark bit of sex-sweat from underneath the normally blue-skinned girl.  He had always found it bizarre how simple smells could be total boner-fuel, but eventually deducted that it was only human nature.  That explained the attraction to the rawness of it.  Unhindered by clothes or condoms or Secret (there were no secrets here).  There was something cool about it, and he wished he could describe it in a more poetic way than "human nature."

Being under the blue athlete reminded Marlon of being in the girls' locker room in high school.  He and a few friends were instructed to bring a high-jump mat into the gym via the locker room (the latter being the closest door to the track).  Nobody was inside, but there had been something so exotic about the beige tiling and the tampon dispensers (not necessarily sexually attractive, but definitely exotic).  All of them hoped to find a lagging girl in the showers, but they were the only ones.  The intruders.  Marlon's mother had already died, and being in this restricted place gave a sense of power.  A sense of "fuck you, mom.  You die, and I get to go that restricted place."  It was symbolic.  Fun, even.  It was one of his greatest high-school memories.

That memory made Marlon even harder, Luna's pounding faster.  Dashie rubbed her ass against his face, just as the mid-teens Richard Marlon had always envisioned.  The smells became even more vibrant.  Piercing, but in a good way.  Dashie let out a massive, involuntary fart on his face.  Marlon felt a small amount of wetness near the bridge of his nose.  The smell was mainly chocolate, but smelled vaguely of methane.

"Sorry!"

"It's OK.  Perfectly natural."

Human nature.

In the outside world, Marlon heard Fluffle moaning highly, almost like a Japanese porn star.  Spike blew his load with a large, low "YAH!!!"  Marlon heard him pant and lean down on the desk above Fluffle, who also panted heavily.

Marlon suddenly felt the jizz blast through his shaft, but an apparent magic spell held it back just before the head.  The gel inside burned to the point of pain.

"Luna!  Cut it out!  Let me splooge!"

Dashie rubbed her ass harder on Marlon's face, occasionally shaking from side to side.  The sensation in his penis was more intense than the night before; now there were two erotic stimulae for his programmed urges.

"No way!  This orgasm's gonna be way crazier than the night before!"

Burning pain shot through Marlon's penis, but the pressure kept building; he now could imagine what it felt like to have a literal penile explosion.  His back wrenched underneath him, and his scapulae contracted.  His whole body was in a vise grip this time.  Luna continued to slam and rub her warm, round cheeks on Marlon's pubic area, this time in her freakishly-tight asshole.  Dashie moved hers to a rimming position, which Marlon took advantage of.  His member felt like it had reached critical mass.  Luna ripped away from the rod and sucked hard.  

Marlon imagined himself as a cartoon character who had reached some point of inner nirvana.  He imagined his pupils contracting to infinitesimal specks, but could not imagine a silly self-realization scene.  The closest he could muster up was an image of himself with eagle wings, rocketing through space toward the sun.

Release.

It must have lasted a full minute, as each part of Marlon's body clamped in with inhuman force.  He could feel the hot stream of semen shooting from his penis, but could not see due to Dashie's ass being in the way.  It was not a shallow stream, like one experienced after days of routine masturbating.  This was like an orgasm after two weeks of penile ignorance.  It seemed to widen the hole into a perfect circle to match the cylindrical jizz-flow.  Marlon heard Luna gag for air, and felt drips in the vicinity.  Dashie began to rub her snatch on his tongue, then let down a cascade of sugar-water into his mouth.  Her thighs clamped his head viciously.  He reached around her legs to pull her closer into his face.  He swallowed and sucked the pussy dry.

The clamp finally subsided.  Luna pushed Dashie aside gently and smooched Marlon tightly.  She had already performed the "spunko vanishissimo" spell, so as to not fill Marlon's mouth with his own juices.  She hugged him tightly while laying on top of him.  She placed his still-erect penis into her vagina until it became flaccid again.  He hugged her back as she began to roll him to the side.  Marlon looked up to find the others gone.  It was only him and Luna.

"Je t'aime, Reeshard," she said in Amy's voice.

The scene faded to black.