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"Do you mind?" said a clear, irritated voice. "I have to pay for the insurance on this car."
This was spoken by a smartly suited young male pony, whose once-carefully combed red hair now looked like he'd stuck his head inside the drum of a washing machine, poured the contents of a vacuum cleaner bag over his head and flipped the on switch; and was addressed to the car's driver: a pale yellow unicorn, who wore a ripped Metallica T-shirt, a studded dog-collar and crusher-heel boots with more buckles than a Hell's Angel. A slip of a cigarette dangled from her curling lower lip, and she had her green and blue hair pulled into a spiky ponytail. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and gently blew the smoke into the dark blue boy pony's face. He gagged. Whatever the unicorn smoked, it was not Mayfair Lights.
"I don't feel so good..." came a low moan from the back seat. A small purple pony, her pink hair gathered in Baby-Spice bunches, huddled into the far corner, her knees drawn up to her chin, her face tinged with green. The other back-seat passenger, a yellow pegasus with loose dark blue curls, was hugging her by the shoulders and murmuring comforting things to her. Suddenly the purple pony's cheeks blew up and she flung her head outside the car just in time.
"Oh, Clover, honey!" cried the pegasus in concern as Clover retched into the road.
"I told you not to eat all that candy," the unicorn sniffed.
"If you would drive with a bit more care - " began the blue boy pony hottly.
"Oh, save the sermon, Lancer, I ain't got time for it," the unicorn drawled and tossed her cigarette butt down his open throat. Lancer spluttered and choked on the foul object, and eventually had to join Clover in vomiting over the side of the car.
"Lillia, dear, there was no need to do that," the pegasus reproached her. "I mean, you were driving just a little too recklessly. Even for you."
"I can't help it if the authorities round here can't look after their roads," Lillia scowled. "I mean, using whales for speed bumps; whadda they think they're doing?"
"It's alright, Bouncy," said Clover shakily, drawing her head back in the car and giving a weak smile. "I'm OK now."
"You're sure, Clo?" Bouncy asked doubtfully. "You still look a little green to me."
"She said she was fine, didn't she?" Lillia snapped. She gazed up at the police building. "So," she said, addressing Lancer, who had just sat up again, puffing and blowing and looking thoroughly alarmed. "Is this our new office or what?"
"It's rather messy," commented Bouncy, staring uneasily at the crumpled doughnut boxes, the mini-basketball hoop stuffed with crumpled "Wanted" notices and the mugs of slowly congealing vending-machine coffee. "And, uhmm - the architecture is - unusual."
"Why doesn't it have a front wall?" asked Clover blankly.
"No, no, no," said Lancer crossly, shaking his head. "This isn't our new office block; this is the police station."
The mention of those two words was enough to send Bouncy and Clover ducking for cover, as Lillia stood up, eyes blazing fire, and shrieked at the very top of her loudest voice. Too late Lancer realized his mistake. He just barely managed to stuff his fists into his ears and prevent irreparable damage to his eardrums; and when Lillia was finally silent, his hair now looked as if it had been subject to Hurricanes Tom, Dick and Harry all at once.
"I HATE cops," Lillia stated to no one in particular. "Lazy, overweight, badge-flashing, self-important, doughnut-eating, cheap-beer-slugging, pen-pushing, five-day-old-shadow, broken-relationship, whiny, manipulative SCUM!!! Make ME into a janitor, would you? Pft-too!" Lillia spat a large gob of saliva at the building. She had exceptionally good aim: it whacked off the giant police department seal at the back of the room, bounced around the light fittings, zoomed across a table of Dew-and-beer-stained files, pinged off a wastepaper bin, struck a dartboard to which was pinned a stick-figure of Molder, and landed SPLAT right in the middle of a particularly fine doodle which Quarty had sitting in the middle of his desk.
"I hate cops," Lillia repeated stoutly.
"Be that as it may," Lancer said, a little guardedly in case he should set her off again, "if we wish to attract any business, it would be necessary to inform the - ah - the general population of our services. And to do that, we need to advertise."
"Oooo," squealed Clover, perking up, "do I get to go on TV?"
"NO!" snapped Lancer. Clover looked pained, and her lip began to quiver. Before she could break out wailing, Lancer hurriedly went on: "We can put up a notice in the - in this building (he corrected himself quickly with a glance at the fuming Lillia), to tell everyone about us. Here!" He ducked down and rummaged around in his black leather briefcase. "Before we left, I got a guy to print us off some fliers."
Lillia peered at the thick wad of paper Lancer held in his hand. Printed on the page was the figure of an elegant female pony, head lifted to the sky, long hair waving in an invisible wind, with wide white wings sprouting from her back; and over the top of the picture was written the legend: "The Angels. Heavenly assistance in a hellish world."
"Bleurgh!" Lillia retched.
"Oooo," said Clover, hanging over Lillia's shoulder. "Purrr-dieee."
"Haven't I seen that picture somewhere before?" Bouncy asked sharply.
"Yes, well, anyway," went on Lancer gruffly. "We have to post these all over town, starting with in there." He pointed up at the fourth floor level, where the whole back wall was taken up by a green baize noticeboard, covered with curling yellow "Wanted" posters, shopping lists, photocopies of various anatomical regions best left to the imagination, and smiley faces made from paper tacks.
"Well, I'm not going in there," said Lillia stoutly, folding her arms across her chest.
Clover squeaked. "I'd fall out! I'm too young to die!"
"Well, I'm not going," huffed Lancer.
"Why not?" asked Lillia.
Lancer spluttered. "Well, I - I mean, I - well, I got the bloody things printed, didn't I?! You can't expect me to do all the work round here!"
Lillia pulled out another cigarette from the back pocket of her black PVC hotpants and lit it nonchalantly.
"Bouncy?" Lancer turned round and appealed to the pretty yellow pegasus.
Bouncy sighed. What could she do? Lancer had such pretty eyes when he was pleading...
"Give them to me," she said wearily.
"Awfully quiet round here," said Lillia, glancing about as Bouncy flew up to the fourth floor. "You bring us to a town or a graveyard, Lance?"
"Yes, it is rather quiet, isn't it?" Lancer said, frowning. "Funny. It was quite lively when I was here last time."
"Maybe they saw your ugly buttface and made for the hills," suggested Lillia coldly.
Lancer might have made some righteously indignant reply to that, but at that minute a commotion above their heads grabbed their attention. There was a crash, the sound of somebody squealing and Bouncy shouting, "Hey, you little - " Then quite suddenly there was something small, green and screaming, tumbling down from the sky.
"My - GOD!" Lancer exclaimed, leaping from the car.
"EEEE!!!" squealed Clover, ducking.
Lillia blew smoke rings.
But swooping down from the fourth floor came a yellow and blue blur which swept the green something up on her back.
"Yay, Bouncy!!!!" Clover cheered, applauding enthusiastically. Lillia even got out of the car to watch, leaning on the bonnet.
"Oh, Bouncy..." murmured Lancer in relief. She was safe. That was good. After all, he was supposed to look out for these girls. He didn't like to think what his employer might have to say if he ever failed. That had been quite a highdive too. Beautifully executed; admirable, admirable...
Bouncy fluttered gently to the ground. The green something turned out to be a very big-eyed baby pony, with a slightly runny nose and a pathetic look designed to put Lillia's teeth on edge. He was absolutely paralysed, arms locked tight around Bouncy's neck. It took a little persuading to make him let go.
"It's alright, little fella, you're safe now," Bouncy soothed. To the others she whispered, "Someone had stuffed him into the filing cabinet; I knocked it over on my way out."
"Ok, young man," said Lancer sternly. The baby pony went quite weak at the knees and looked about ready to fall over with fright. "What's your name? Where is everybody? What were you doing in there?"
The kid's mouth opened and closed like a startled goldfish, but no sound came out.
"Well?" said Lancer. "Come on, boy, speak up. Say what you've got to say."
"My - " began the baby, quivering all over with terror.
"Yes, go on."
"My - "
"Yes, yes, go on."
"My mommy says I shouldn't talk to strangers."
Lancer's face was a picture. Lillia half-wished she'd had her camera ready.
"Alright, come on, let me handle this," she half-growled, pushing the blue boy pony aside. She walked right up to the baby, who cowered back, and kneeling down beside him, she gave a sweet, understanding smile. The baby pony stared at her suspiciously at first, but as the smile remained and even grew a little wider, he slowly started to relax and even began smiling back at her. Lillia let her smile grow for one last second - then grabbed the kid by the collar and flung him up against the car.
"ALRIGHT, YA LITTLE PUNK! NOW YOU START TALKING OR I'LL MAKE YOU WISH YOUR MOMMY AND DADDY HAD NEVER DRAGGED YOUR SORRY ASS INTO THIS WORLD!!!"
"Ok, ok, ok!! I'll talk, I'll talk!" squealed the baby, squirming in fear.
"AND QUIT SQUIRMING OR I'LL HAVE TO PIN YOUR ARMS DOWN WITH PAPER TACKS!"
The baby pony froze like a small, green statue which had snot hanging from its nose.
"See?" said Lillia, turning to Lancer. "That is how you deal with kids."
"Madam?" squeaked the baby.
"WHAT?"
The baby cringed. "Can I wipe my nose please?" he asked in a teeny-tiny voice. The snot had grown all the way down to his bellybutton. Lillia made a face and sprang clear.
"Urggh! Yes! Go ahead."
The baby drew his sleeve across his nose with a long loud sniff.
"Now," said Lillia. "What were you saying?"
The baby stared at her. "'Bout what?"
"About who you are, and where everybody else is," interrupted Lancer impatiently.
"Well, my real name is Leaper." The kid's face fell. "But everyone calls me Leper."
"Don't blame 'em," muttered Lillia. "Easier to spell on the keyboard, for a start."
"Yes, go on, Leper," said Lancer, ignoring the grumpy unicorn. "And where is everybody else? Where are your mommy and daddy for instance?"
"They're in Willy's bar," said Leper, pointing. They all turned and gazed in silence at the glory that was Willy's bar. At this distance they couldn't see much, but it was pretty clear that they were the only adults within a twenty-odd mile radius who weren't unconscious.
"Must have been some party," Bouncy commented.
Lancer turned back to Leper. "Are all the grown-ups there?"
Leper nodded. "Pretty much all of them." He considered for a minute. "Well, I thought I saw Salty in the Lake trying to eat Howie, but that might have been an old shopping cart."
"Where are all the other children?" asked Bouncy.
Leper's eyes grew big and teary. It made Lillia gag. "I dunno. Marian got the others to tie me up an' put me in the filing cabinet. I think they said they were gonna go to Doc Lacey's, to see the dead CPK pony." Leper shuddered.
"Great," said Lillia. "We've just arrived, the adults are toasted to the point of unconsciousness, and the town is crawling with stray brats."
"Can I get some more candy?" asked Clover, who was feeling much better now. At this handy distraction, Leper decided that discretion truly was the better part of cowardice and sped off as fast as his little green heels could carry him.
"Oh, drat," said Lillia blankly. "That's him gone."
Lancer sighed. "Well, we can't stand around here all day. We'd better go and get settled into our new offices."
"I can get candy first, right?" persisted Clover as the other three got into the car. "And Mountain Dew. Need Mountain Dew."
"Yes," agreed Bouncy immediately. "Need Mountain Dew."
"Ooo-oh. Alright," agreed Lancer crossly.
Lillia put on a pair of sunglasses, tossed her butt into the road and took off with a screech of burning tires.
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