[REQUEST] Anonymous - Trixie's Cart


                                            Originally uploaded to Pastebin: July 11th, 2016

                                            ---


                                            I asked for a request.

                                            Anonymous gave me this:


                                            "Trixie crashes her cart into Anon's home. She claims it's his fault and demands he provide her with a place to stay until repairs can be done; hijinks ensue."


                                            Please note I did not proof-read anything.

                                            ---

                                            >What kind of store sells ropes shaped like nooses?

                                            >You scrutinise the page in the newspaper you're reading.

                                            >25% off ropes, small stools, pens, and paper.

                                            >Huh.

                                            >If you were a suspicious man, you might think the newspaper was trying to tell you something.

                                            >Instead, you just turn the page and keep on reading.

                                            >Friday nights are always the most intense.

                                            >You'll sit down and sometimes read the newspaper for -hours-.

                                            >The record so far is 6 hours of hardcore newspaper action.

                                            >As you think of your past accomplishments, you come to the realisation that you might need to get out more.

                                            >Unfortunately, you don't have the money to go out drinking with the girls, and Twilight said she's done paying for you.

                                            >As have the others.

                                            >Not Fluttershy though.

                                            >She's far too enthusiastic to be trusted with buying you drinks.

                                            >All of them so far have arrived with little fizzy pills in the bottom of them.

                                            >If you were a suspicious man, you might think she was trying to take advantage of you.

                                            >Whilst you lament your lack of money and friends, you check the clock.

                                            >11:25pm

                                            >You sigh, stretch, and run a hand through your hair.

                                            >Might as well head to bed.

                                            >A long weekend of reading the newspaper is in-store for you.

                                            >Those around you have often said that perhaps you need to get a job.

                                            >It's not like you haven't tried; you have.

                                            >Roseluck was a joy to work for until you found out she had been taking pictures of you on the toilet through a secret hole in the wall.

                                            >Mayor Mare was firm, but fair, as well as a genuinely kind-hearted boss, until you found out she had been taking pictures of you on the toilet through a secret hole in the ceiling.

                                            >Applejack was great. She worked you hard, but always had a meal and a good day's pay ready for you at the end. You'd have loved to have stayed working for her, until you found out she had been taking pictures of you on the toilet.

                                            >She wasn't even subtle like your previous employers.

                                            >The mare just casually kicked open the door and started taking snapshots when your pants were down.

                                            >The seventh time it happened you'd decided that you'd had enough.

                                            >So here you are, jobless, peniless, and friendless.

                                            >The man that said money couldn't buy happiness had clearly never been stranded on an alien world surrounded by shrunken talking horses.

                                            >You fold the paper and cast it onto your favourite chair.

                                            >Bed sounds great right about now.

                                            >Turning to go upstairs, you place a foot on the bottom step.

                                            >An almighty crash rocks the entire house.

                                            >The sound of shattering wood, glass, and crumbling stone-work raise a cacophony about you.

                                            >Myriad harsh, worrying sounds breaks the silence that previously held the air.

                                            >...

                                            >You take your foot off the step.

                                            >Then turn yourself back to your living room.

                                            >A sizable wooden carriage is parked in the middle of it.

                                            >On its side.

                                            >One of the wheels is still spinning, and you can see the moon through the now gaping hole in the wall of your house.

                                            >Glass and splinters coat the rug, and your sofa was annihilated during the carriage's dynamic entry.

                                            >Cold air rushes into the room, rendering what little central heating you could afford completely null and wasted.

                                            >You blink a few times.

                                            >If you were a suspicious man, you might think that there was something wrong with what you were seeing.

                                            >'Well,' you think to yourself.

                                            >'At least my newspaper is okay.'

                                            >Right as you think that, a rogue breeze rushes in, picks up the paper, and carries it out into the night sky.

                                            >You watch it head skyward with sadness.

                                            >Lowering your eyes back to the carriage, you step over a bit of broken glass and approach the door on the front.

                                            >It's still quite a small thing; you are human, afterall.

                                            >Crouch down, then rap your knuckles on the door.

                                            >After a few seconds, the top part of the door opens.

                                            >"Hello? Yes? What is it?"

                                            "Excuse me, miss, you've seemed to have taken a wrong turn. You're parked in my house."

                                            >The mare looks around at the carnage she's wrought.

                                            >She goes bright red.

                                            >Then glowers at you, adjusting the large wizard's hat she's wearing.

                                            >"Trixie has not 'taken a wrong turn'. YOU simply put your house in the way of her cart!"

                                            "I uh, I-I don't--"

                                            >"Don't you dare question Trixie! She knows when she is right and she doesn't see you apologising for damaging her cart!"

                                            "Who is... Trixie again?"

                                            >Despite everything, the mare somehow manages to appear even more furious with you.

                                            >Her cheeks flustered, her eye twitching, she starts shouting.

                                            >This happens whilst she's lying on her side inside her cart, looking up at you sideways through the door.

                                            >An accusing hoof nearly jabs you in the nose.

                                            >"TRIXIE IS THE MARE YOU ARE SPEAKING TO!"

                                            "Oh, sorry."

                                            >"NOT GOOD ENOUGH! NOT EVEN REMOTELY!"

                                            "I'm -very- sorry?"

                                            >The tiny blue horse snorts.

                                            >She then climbs gracefully out of the cart.

                                            >As gracefully as a disoriented and severely agitated pony can.

                                            >Watch with bemusement as she trips over her cape and faceplants the floor.

                                            >She staggers to her hooves, cursing the cape under her breath.

                                            >Then resumes glaring at you.

                                            >"The Great and Powerful Trixie demands compensation!"

                                            "I uh, don't have any money."

                                            >She laughs.

                                            >"Ha! Don't make Trixie laugh, a house such as this could only belong to someone with money! Now cough up, or Trixie shall make you rue the day!"

                                            "No really, I don't have -any- money. I've been reading the same newspaper for three weeks now."

                                            >She narrows her eyes.

                                            >"Then how are you to compensate Trixie?"

                                            "I can't, I'm sorry."

                                            >You nervously pick at your fingers.

                                            >For such a small pony, she's got a look that could kill a man a mile away.

                                            >Trixie watches your hands carefully.

                                            >"You have hands... Can you use tools?"

                                            "I used to work on a farm so... sure?"

                                            >Trixie smirks.

                                            >"Then you shall repair Trixie's cart!"

                                            "Bu- wha...?"

                                            >She 'hmphs' and struts past you.

                                            >"Trixie shall not hear anything on the contrary. You broke her cart with your stupid house, now you shall fix her cart with your stupid fingers."

                                            "But that could take hours! Maybe even days!"

                                            >The mare pauses for a moment.

                                            >You see her shiver.

                                            >Without further hesitation, she jumps onto your favourite armchair and makes herself comfortable.

                                            >It's just the right size for her to sink in nice and snugly.

                                            >She wraps her cape around herself like a blanket.

                                            >Then takes her hat off and uses it as a pillow.

                                            >"In that case, Trixie shall stay here whilst you work."

                                            "Oh come on..."

                                            >"Get to work! Trixie doesn't like to be kept waiting."

                                            "Trixie can suck it, I'm going to bed."

                                            >You stomp past her.

                                            "Also, get out of my house."

                                            >Continue marching towards the--

                                            >Lean your head back into the living room to look at Trixie.

                                            "P-please."

                                            >Continue marching towards the stairs.

                                            >Ascend them and reach your bedroom.

                                            >At least the cold air can't reach you here.

                                            >Though you fully expect to be freezing by the time you wake up.

                                            >Luna has a thing for nights so cold they turn your blood into ice.

                                            >That's why she's the worst princess by a longshot.

                                            >You curl up under your covers, enjoying the silence and the warmth.

                                            >Tomorrow, you can sort it all out.

                                            >Tomorrow...

                                            >...

                                            >The door slams open.

                                            >Angry hoofsteps storm towards your bed.

                                            >An angrier horse throws back the covers.

                                            >Then gets into bed with you.

                                            >Then angrily wraps them back around the pair of you.

                                            >"How DARE you not invite Trixie to bed! She is -freezing- down there and you have the AUDACITY to deny her warmth and comfort?! Trixie should throw you out!"

                                            "This is -my- house! You can't kick me out of my own house!"

                                            >"Hm. Very well, you are spared Trixie's wrath, but she expects her cart fully repaired tomorrow, or you shall rue the day!"

                                            >You grumble as you shut your eyes.

                                            "Whatever... fucking horse..."

                                            >Trixie grumbles in return.

                                            >"Stupid human..."

                                            >...

                                            >...

                                            >You nudge Trixie.

                                            >She grunts in response.

                                            "Um, what does 'rue the day' mean, anyway?"

                                            >"Go to sleep. Trixie is bored of your shenanigans."

                                            "O-oh okay..."


                                            >The next morning, your eyes flutter open.

                                            >Sitting up and stretching, you yawn, a hand covering your mouth.

                                            >You take a moment to blink and get your bearings.

                                            >The dream you just had was nuts.

                                            >Some blue horse broke into your house and demanded you to sleep with her then repair her cart.

                                            >You look down at your bedmate.

                                            >She's slack-jawed and openly drooling all over your pillow, her tongue hanging out in a comical fashion.

                                            >...Oh shit that actually happened.

                                            >You carefully slide out of bed and try to creep towards the door.

                                            >Slowly grasp the door handle and turn--

                                            >"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING."

                                            >"ALSO GOOD MORNING."

                                            >You sigh.

                                            "I'm going to get breakfast, Trixie."

                                            >"And are you going to invite Trixie?"

                                            "...No?"

                                            >"Wrong answer."

                                            >She leaps out of bed, her stubby, angry legs carrying her past you.

                                            >"Absolutely disgraceful behaviour, you're incredibly rude! How could you deny Trixie breakfast, for shame!"

                                            >You follow her out the door, stomach groaning loudly and mind groaning louder.

                                            >The unicorn enters your kitchen and sits at the table, shuffling the seat up and sitting straight.

                                            >Then, she stares at you expectantly when you eventually enter after her.

                                            >The two of you lock eyes for a moment.

                                            >You check yourself, then look around.

                                            >Then back at Trixie.

                                            "...What?"

                                            >"Trixie is waiting for her breakfast."

                                            "Are you incapable of looking after yourself or something?"

                                            >"Trixie is completely capable. Trixie is a master of self-preservation, she merely expects you to make her breakfast as penance for destroying her cart."

                                            >You give her a flat look.

                                            >"Trixie would like pancakes, by the way."

                                            >...

                                            >"With syrup."

                                            >You reach into your cupboard and grab the only thing in it, a box of cereal.

                                            >Pour two bowls, then coat it with the last of your milk.

                                            >Slam the bowl in front of Trixie and take the seat across from her.

                                            "Bon appetit."

                                            >"Wha-- Trixie's bowl isn't nearly as full as yours!"

                                            "I'm the host. I get more cereal."

                                            >"OUTRAGEOUS!"

                                            >With a quick flick of her horn, she swaps the bowls before you.

                                            >Then, after a second, steals your spoon as well.

                                            >You visibly deflate.

                                            "I just wanted an easy weekend..."

                                            >"As did Trixie. But now you have stolen it from her. Trixie hopes you're happy."

                                            "I'm positively thrilled."

                                            >Trixie smacks her spoon on your exposed knuckles.

                                            >"No sarcasm in front of Trixie!"

                                            "Did you train to be a bitch or does it come naturally?"

                                            >She splutters, getting milk and half-chewed cereal everywhere.

                                            >"Buh-- how DARE you! Trixie s--"

                                            >She wipes her mouth.

                                            >Angrily.

                                            >"Trixie should destroy you where you stand! You shall rue th-- you shall regret this!"

                                            "Then who'll fix your cart?"

                                            >"Trixie shall find another!"

                                            "Well I'm not taking shit from you anymore, Trixie, I'm putting my foot dow--"

                                            >She smacks your knuckles with her spoon again.

                                            >You yelp and withdraw your hand, nursing it.

                                            "Alright! I'll fix it!"

                                            >She smirks.

                                            >"Good. Trixie knew you'd see sense. Now get to work, you can leave your cereal."

                                            "Blow it out your--"

                                            >She levitates her spoon menacingly.

                                            >You sprint out the kitchen.


                                            >"Work faster."

                                            "It takes time to do this, you know."

                                            >"..."

                                            >You continue to tinker with the spokes on one of the wheels.

                                            >They'll need to be completely replaced.

                                            >Preferably before Applejack realises that you've stolen her toolbox.

                                            >Trixie sits on your favourite chair, helping herself to one of your precious apple-juice boxes.

                                            >"This apple-juice is warm."

                                            "That's because the fridge doesn't work."

                                            >"Fix the fridge once you're done fixing the cart."

                                            "Why don't you just let me work? That sound good to you?"

                                            >"Why doesn't Trixie get the spoon? That sound good to you?"

                                            >Your knuckles shiver at the mere mention.

                                            >"In fact, after you've fixed the cart and fridge, take Trixie shopping. She needs someone to help her buy supplies for her shows."

                                            "We're not a couple, you know, you can't just treat me like your beta-boyfriend."

                                            >"I-- Trixie never said we were a couple!"

                                            "I know, but the way you're nagging me right now gives off a different impression."

                                            >"Trixie would never date a creature like you!"

                                            "Glad to know."

                                            >You turn your attention back to the spokes.

                                            >Maybe if you destroyed the wheel and replaced it with a giant rubber ball...?

                                            >"Trixie has far higher standards than that!"

                                            "Ya-huh..." you say, absently nodding along with her.

                                            >"She is far too attractive to be seen with such a monster!"

                                            Yyyup..."

                                            >When she realises that you're essentially ignoring her, she scowls and goes back to her juice box.


                                            >"Trixie fails to see what you've done."

                                            >Your smile drops off your face.

                                            "You're kidding, right? Your wheels are fixed!"

                                            >Trixie inspects them closely.

                                            >Her eyes dart to each spoke, checking them for flaws.

                                            >"Hm. You have done a passable job. Trixie will accept it."

                                            "Great, well now we just need to get the cart upright and you'll be ready to go!"

                                            >Trixie ponders this.

                                            >"That is... excellent. We shall have to hurry to the market then to get supplies before it is too late."

                                            "What?"

                                            >"Are you deaf? Trixie said that she wanted taking to market."

                                            "And I said I'm not your damn boyfriend. Do it yourself, you've got legs, haven't you? Walk."

                                            >Trixie watches your face carefully.

                                            >Then slowly levitates a spoon.


                                            >"Trixie requires fireworks for her stage performance, come come, this way."

                                            >The little blue demon leads you through the throngs of ponies milling about in the central plaza in Ponyville.

                                            >A lot of heads turn to see the peculiar sight of the infamous Trixie Lulamoon leading around the local human like a servant.

                                            >You try to keep your head down and stay unnoticed.

                                            >Which is difficult when you're the tallest thing in the village.

                                            >"Trixie demands confetti."

                                            >"Trixie requires refreshments."

                                            >"Trixie wants more fireworks."

                                            >"Trixie desires to drop her cape and hat off at the cleaners."

                                            >"Trixie is to be carried."

                                            >The requests pile up over the day.

                                            >You are reaching your breaking point.

                                            >By the time you get back to your house, you're carrying all of her shopping, as well as the mare herself.

                                            >She makes herself comfortable lounging in your arms, making sure to occasionally kick your hands with a stray hoof to make your job that much harder.

                                            >Your eye twitches slightly.

                                            >Stagger through the massive hole in the side of your house.

                                            >Slump against the side of the cart, setting some of the shopping down on it.

                                            >Trixie huffs.

                                            >"Trixie does not approve of her cart being used as a table."

                                            "Trixie needs to shut the hell up."

                                            >"The nerve! Where is that spoon-- Get Trixie her spoon!"

                                            "No."

                                            >She goes red.

                                            >Again.

                                            >Like a spoilt child that doesn't like it when things don't go her way.

                                            >"Trixie shall--"

                                            "Why do you keep saying your name like that? It makes you sound weird."

                                            >"TRIXIE SHALL MAKE YOU RUE--"

                                            "--The day."

                                            >"--THE DA-- AAAAAAAUUUGH!"

                                            >She begins hitting you with her hooves.

                                            >Dump the rest of the shopping on the cart and carry Trixie into the kitchen, the mare pathetically smacking you the whole time.

                                            >You open up the fridge, since fixed at the behest of Her Highness, and pull out the last juicebox.

                                            >Wordlessly give it to Trixie.

                                            >She accepts it with a great many words, most of them negative and aimed at you, but quietens down to suck on the straw.

                                            >Like a god damn child.

                                            >You walk back into the living room and fall into your chair.

                                            >Trixie, still in your arms, snuggles up against you.

                                            >"Tell Trixie she's pretty."

                                            "Who's pretty?"

                                            >"Trixie."

                                            "What about her?"

                                            >"Tell her she's pretty."

                                            "Tell who she's pretty?"

                                            >You don't bother looking at her, but you don't hide your shit-eating grin as she fumes in your lap.

                                            >"When are we going to eat?"

                                            "When I magically conjure up a load of money to spend on food."

                                            >Trixie laughs.

                                            >"Typical peasant, not even two bits to rub together."

                                            >Her horn lights up, and the sideways door on her cart opens.

                                            >After a short moment, a small sack hovers out and levitates before your face.

                                            >"Accept this as a gift from the Generous and Merciful Trixie."

                                            >You tenderly accept it, treating the sack like it's going to turn to dust at the slightest bit of force.

                                            >The mare in your lap fixes her mane, a haughty look taunting you.

                                            >"Well? Thank Trixie for her kindness and compassion."

                                            >...

                                            "You had money this whole fucking time?!"

                                            >"Of course! How else do you think Trixie can afford such lavish goods from the stores of Ponyville?"

                                            "You made me pay for it! I'm in debt to every single shop in Ponyville now!"

                                            >You glare at her.

                                            "Do you have any idea what sorts of 'special favours' the mares in this town ask for?!"

                                            >Trixie covers her mouth with a hoof and giggles.

                                            >"Trixie can guess. Perhaps she should request a special favour as well."

                                            >The mare bats her eyelids at you and giggles again.

                                            >You notice that she's repositioned herself to a more compromising place in your lap.

                                            >Her hips slowly start moving against yours.

                                            >"Perhaps Trixie likes the idea of a male doing all her work for her."

                                            >She pushes moves her head uncomfortably close to yours.

                                            >"Perhaps she's impressed by your strong hands and capable arms that can carry her wherever she wishes to go~"

                                            "...I want paying for your shopping."

                                            >...

                                            >She stops lightly rubbing herself against you and summons another bag of bits.

                                            >"Fine. Take it, leech."

                                            >She jumps off you and storms over to her cart.

                                            >"Trixie shall sleep in her cart, away from your stench."

                                            >With that, she clambers inside her cart.

                                            >It shakes for a while as the pony inside adjusts herself to suddenly being sideways.

                                            >"Trixie is enjoying herself in here! It's so spacious and comfortable!"

                                            >You ignore her and count your money.

                                            >"And no smelly humans are here to embarrass and HUMILIATE Trixie!"

                                            >You could buy -actual food- with this much cash!

                                            >In fact, you might actually go and get yourself some right now!

                                            >With an excited, childlike laugh, you launch yourself from your chair and bound out the hole in the wall towards Ponyville to get some long-sought-after food.

                                            >...

                                            >"Trixie is so happy in here! She's so glad there are no humans in here with her trying to annoy her!"

                                            >...

                                            >"...Hello...?"

                                            >...

                                            >"...Don't ignore Trixie!"


                                            >When you return, bulging shopping bags in hand, Trixie is waiting for you.

                                            >"Oh. There you are. Where have you been?"

                                            "Getting food for the first time in weeks."

                                            >You stroll past the mare, who was sat in your chair, and set the shopping on the kitchen table.

                                            >Once that's done, you crack your knuckles and flex.

                                            "Right. Time to finish this."

                                            >Trixie, watching you, cocks her head slightly.

                                            >"Finish what?"

                                            >You march towards the cart and crouch down, digging your fingers into the rug and under the wooden frame.

                                            >With an intense groan, your legs shaking and back complaining, you tip the cart up off the floor.

                                            >Trixie stares, shocked.

                                            >After a few more grunts, cursewords, and pathetic noises, you manage to set the cart upright.

                                            >You wipe your forehead and suck in air, exhausted from the effort.

                                            "Man, wanted to do that since I fixed those god damn wheels."

                                            >Let out a short, breathless laugh, and lean against the cart.

                                            >Trixie is visibly stunned.

                                            "Well, Trixie. Your cart is fixed and can move again, you have your supplies, I have my money and food, and while I was out I managed to snag another job."

                                            >You nod triumphantly, pleased with how this has all played out.

                                            "So ends our little adventure. Need help getting your cart out?"

                                            >Trixie stares at you.

                                            >Then at the cart.

                                            >Then at the food on the kitchen table.

                                            >Then at you again.

                                            >...

                                            >"Trixie... is thankful."

                                            "Oh good. Now get out."

                                            >"She wishes to stay with you."

                                            "Come again?"

                                            >Trixie plays with her tail nervously.

                                            >"Trixie wishes to stay here, with you."

                                            "Uh, no. Cart fixed, money paid, pony leave."

                                            >The little blue mare shrinks slightly, your armchair suddenly appearing too big for her.

                                            >"Ah, very... very well."

                                            "What's the big deal? We've known each other for like two days."

                                            >She nods nervously.

                                            >"Trixie is aware, but, she just felt like we had something going between us."

                                            "Nah, not really. You can go now."

                                            >All of the fight seems to have been sucked out of her.

                                            >She offers none of the hot-headed temperament that had characterised her before as she, without a word, slides off your chair and walks towards her cart.

                                            >The unicorn climbs inside and stands in the doorway.

                                            >From where she is, she's almost eye-level with you.

                                            >"Are you sure?"

                                            "Yup. Quite sure. Plus I need you gone anyway, I'm gonna aim to have builders here in a week or so to fix up this hole that you created."

                                            >Trixie goes red again.

                                            >Her eyebrows knit together as you see a temper rising in her.

                                            >"W-well fine! Trixie didn't need you! She didn't need any of this! She didn't need a warm bed, or a partner, or food on the table, or someone to talk to! She didn't need any of it!"

                                            >You blink, surprised.

                                            >"I-I-- Trixie will just go! GOODBYE!"

                                            >Her horn flares up, and the wooden doors slam.

                                            >The wheels on the cart churn to life with a latent magical energy, and the cart reverses back out the hole it created.

                                            >You watch it go with a frown.

                                            >The cart rolls across the grass, retracing the deep gouges it formed in the soil when it originally careened off the road and slammed into your house.

                                            >It gets about 15 feet away from the hole, then stops.

                                            >You watch and wait.

                                            >Then the door swings open on the cart, and Trixie marches out.

                                            >Uh oh.

                                            >She trots across the grass.

                                            >Through the hole.

                                            >Stands at your feet.

                                            >And glares up at you.

                                            >"If Trixie is not your housemate, then she is your neighbour."

                                            "What."

                                            >"As a traveller, Trixie can set up wherever she pleases, and she is not on your property, so there is nothing you can do about it."

                                            "Oh Christ."

                                            >"So. -Neighbour-."

                                            >She glowers at you.

                                            >"TAKE TRIXIE TO THE MOVIES AT ONCE."


                                            The End.