Filthy Rich smiled as he watched an older mare, one with thin legs and shaky knees, as she perused the quilts section. He was at her side, as a just-in-case scenario where she fell and broke one of her old and brittle bones, but also to brighten her day with some friendly banter. As he talked with her, she talked about her family, a bright smile on her face that made her eyes radiate with the warm glow of the sun.
"My little grandfilly… well, not so little anymore, she runs a bookstore in Ponyville," the mare said. "The Passionate Quill, if I recall right… I tell you what, ponies always thought that Crimson Flame was weird as a foal, and look at her now—she's just adding her own special touch to Ponyville these days."
Filthy smiled and nodded. If memory served him correctly, Crimson Flame herself came to peruse his stores from time to time, mostly groceries or what few odds and ends she needed for her little alcove. She had a particular penchant for soft, fuzzy things, and some of her customers would catch her nuzzling the plushies of her personal collection with a warm and fond smile on her face. She was weird, yes, but that was part of her charm. "She was here just the other week," he said, beaming. "She was talking a storm about a few books of her personal collection, and honestly, she seemed really happy to talk about them."
The elderly mare grinned. "Talked your ears off, did she? Most of the extended family don't like her running mouth, but she hardly cared about them—didn't talk much with them to know them personally to begin with," she said, even as she continued to browse the quilts. "But she told me that she wants a nice, big quilt she can wrap herself up in on those cold rainy nights—a big'n, that would feel really good in her hooves."
"Ah, yes, she did mention that last week, but was disappointed that she was on a budget. Shouldn't it be her payday, soon?" Filthy wondered, putting a hoof to his chin as he pondered.
"Oh no, she won’t be paid until the end of the week, because of the contract she's made with the mayor regarding her store," the elderly mare replied. Still smiling, she added, "But Granny Kindling has her covered; most of the extended family would've just told her to shove it and grow up."
Filthy frowned. "That's… unfortunate," he said. "I can see why she doesn't talk with them that much."
Kindling's mouth twitched in a smile, even as her nose wrinkled a smidgen. "Greedy types, whole lot of 'em, and none of that lot want to realize that Crimson's brain works different from theirs. They think she's a kookaburra," she said, before her eyes and hoof settled on a particular quilt. She sat on her haunches to lift it up, which took a bit of effort due to her advanced age. She held the quilt in one hoof, and felt along it with the other. It was soft and plush, made of a fur-like texture and showing moons and stars in a haunting red backdrop of a centrally-placed lunar eclipse.
Kindling's smile widened as she looked it over. "Ooooh, I think she'll love this one," she chirped, bidding Filthy to come over and put his hoof to the quilt. He did as he was bid, and smiled upon finding that this quilt would satisfy the particular needs of a fellow business associate, as weird in the head as she was. If he were any judge, the quilt would very well grow on her, despite the unusual flair it boasted.
"This one… yes, this would suit her needs just fine. But would she also like a thinner blanket, for the hot, sunny nights?" Filthy asked, as he gently took the quilt and folded it up to rest it on his own back, solely for Kindling's safety. He made a mental note to find a few straps to wrap it in, mostly to keep it contained in the shopping bag in something of an orderly fashion.
Kindling shook her head and slowly stood up. "No, she has plenty of those. She uses a lot of them for bath towels, because she finds them too itchy to sleep in," she answered. "But I think this quilt is gonna complement her oldest plush bear, who recently gained an eye patch."
"An eye patch?" Filthy asked.
Kindling nodded, and started making her way for the registers. Filthy followed her as she answered, "Oh, yeah. One of the extended family brought over his not-so-trained dog, and left her to watch him for three days. She had to close her store down for that time, and wound up having Fluttershy take the dog back to that family member, because she'd have bucked him in the face over what the pooch did to her oldest plush, Perdition." She laughed. "Fortunately, the pooch only took out an eye from the old trooper before he was put in the doghouse."
Filthy nodded, keeping the quilt carefully balanced on his backside as he moved to keep pace with Kindling. Just about anypony he knew would have said some uncouth words about it, and Crimson Flame, when angry, was more uncouth than most in that regard, especially over her plushies. He imagined her going blue in the face over that slight, and bucking the offending owner of the uncontrolled dog up to the moon over it. "Has anypony tried doing that to her since? Leaving her with animals they don't train on purpose, to hurt her?"
Kindling shook her head. "Not since then, no. She threatened the idget with a literal cockatrice and then a sloppy paint job if he did it again, and I had to break it up," she answered. "After the idget took his pooch and went home, Granny Kindling patched up her old bear, free of charge."
Goodness, Crimson Flame took her plushies seriously. Filthy made a mental note to check his plushies section, and see if any of them were damaged. "Does she know how to sew?" he found himself asking.
"Yes, but she didn't have the cloth needed for the eye patch," Kindling replied. "Either that, or she couldn't find it." Before they knew it, they were at the registers, and both perked up upon seeing them.
“Well, if she has need of material for the patch, she knows where to find me. I’ll give her a good price on it, too, and any other supplies she needs.”
“I’ll let her know when next I see her. How much do I owe you?”
As Filthy ducked behind the counter and took control of the register, he checked the tag on the blanket. He had priced it at twenty-one bits. He’d come to that conclusion after hearing that it had cost just over six to make. Seven more would go to the seamstress that crafted the quilt, and he would take the remaining eight.
“It’s eighteen bits,” he smiled, ringing it up with a discount. True, he was still having a bit of trouble keeping this particular shop afloat, but he didn’t have to be greedy. Crimson Flame, while a reputable bookbinder and vendor of bibliography-related products, had a bit of a temper when angered. He certainly didn’t want to be accused of cheating her granny, even if said claim was wholly untrue. “It is a bit heavy. Do you want me to have it brought to Ponyville this weekend? It’d be a lot closer, so you wouldn’t have to carry it all the way down. She can even come pick it up herself, if you like.”
Kindling huffed. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
A clerk popped up from behind another counter. “No, I’m just fine.”
Filthy rolled his eyes. “Not you, the concept.”
Kindling let out a chuckle. “I think I’ll take you up on having it shipped for me. I was going to find a box and gift wrap it, but…”
“I’ll take care of it personally,” smiled Filthy, taking her bits as she slid them across the counter. “She can stop by the store on Saturday afternoon and pick it up. You have a nice day, now.”
As Kindling walked out of the store, Filthy checked the tag again, adding to his ledger that the item had been sold. He didn’t want to risk accidentally selling the same quilt to somepony else. He wouldn’t mind the refund, but bad press was not something he could afford at the moment.
He pressed the drawer release button on the cash register, and as he slid it open, a butterscotch custard pie sprung out and splattered all over his face. Two customers that had just walked in froze in place, and Chivalry looked up from his work. They were all silent as a glob of custard with a graham cracker crust chunk plopped to the floor.
Filthy licked his lips. “Needs whipped cream,” he smiled, though it was obvious that he was annoyed. He leaned over the counter toward the customers. “Good evening, ladies. Why don’t you have a look around while we clean this up? Take your time. We’re in no big rush.”
Chivalry took a step closer as the mares wandered into the store. “Boss, you, uh… You want some paper towels or something?”
“And a trash can,” he nodded. “Grab a dustpan, too.”
As soon as he thought he was alone, Filthy began looking around, until he heard a quiet giggling. It was over by the coat racks, one of the few pieces of furniture he didn’t keep near the back because of their small size. A closer examination showed him one with a bulbous blue horn and white antler as the top prongs.
“I know you’re there, Discord,” he sighed. “You and I need to speak. Come on out.”
“Nopony’s home,” Discord chuckled. “Perhaps you should knock?”
Filthy rapped three times on the countertop, only for the surface to give way to a trapdoor that hadn’t been there before. “Why, Filthy! Isn’t this a pleasant surprise! What brings you here, at this hour?”
“It’s my shop,” huffed Filthy. “I sort of own the place?”
“Is that right? I heard you bought a place for a song, but this place? Must have been some ballad. How about you sing me a few bars of that performance?” Discord shoved a guitar into Filthy’s hooves and pulled up a big bag of popcorn. As he reached into the bag, Filthy noticed that it was unpopped.
“I really would–” Filthy found that his voice had been autotuned, and the guitar was strumming along with him. He glanced to the side and saw that a customer was watching them chat. He cleared his throat, sat back on his haunches, and tried his best to pretend that he was actually putting in any effort.
“I think it is quite rude for you to treat me in this way.
I’m only trying to do my job, but you just want to play.
These jokes are not as practical as you seem to think.
It seems you’re causing me new strain every time I blink.
I ask you, lord of chaos, if we can talk this out,
I just want to know, just what is this all about?”
As he spoke, the guitar seemed to stum of its own accord, and his hooves just seemed to follow along. It actually felt kind of cool, and when he finished, a couple of ponies clapped. Filthy bowed, and turned to Discord, taking off the guitar. “Can we speak candidly, now?” His voice had returned to its normal pitch and tone.
“Oh, alright,” smirked Discord, snapping his claws. The guitar disappeared, the remains of the pie vanished just as Chivalry came back with all of the cleaning equipment, and Discord walked out of the countertop. “What did you want to say?”
Filthy waved for Chivalry to take over the cashier position again, dropping Kindling’s bits into the tray and closing the drawer, then hoisted the quilt onto his back. “Let’s go to my office, first. I don’t want this to be any more of a spectacle. I’ve humoured you so far, now it’s your turn.”
“You’re letting me back into your store?” smirked Discord. “Such an honor.”
“It’s not like you haven’t been ignoring the ban this whole time,” snapped Filthy. “You’ve been in my office already without my permission. At least this way, I can keep an eye on you.”
“Fair enough.”
With that, they began a rather peaceful trot to the office. In fact, Discord kept his claws behind his back as they walked in that direction, whistling a jaunty tune to himself. If Filthy didn't know better, he'd have said that his posture, tune, and hands-behind-the-back were a picture of someone scheming something absolutely, malevolently diabolical. No chaos permeated the store otherwise, and Filthy thought it strange that Discord wasn't actively making pigs fly or some other gubbins similar in nature to that particular figure of speech.
And speaking of figures of speech, any other ones that could come to mind as they reached the office failed to happen as well, in their most literal senses, at least. Discord, for all his recent dastardly doings, may well have been the picture of malevolent innocence—two words that Filthy hoped he would never have to put together in the same sentence ever again, especially after the Cozy Glow fiasco.
The office door popped open once the pair reached it, and the two strode in relatively quietly, Discord's whistling notwithstanding. The door closed behind them, and Filthy checked his desk right quick, to see if it had been boobytrapped as well. When he found no such thing, he pulled two particular straps from it, set the quilt on it, and wrapped the quilt up with those straps to keep it in a tidy square shape, which he then set on a shelf where other pick-up orders sat. He wrote on a clipboard dangling from the shelf, "eclipse quilt, for Crimson Flame, white unicorn with red mane and flaming quill cutie mark."
Once that had been sorted, he trotted to the desk, sat in the chair, and bade Discord to sit directly opposite of him. Discord did as he was nonverbally told, and a brief silence hung in the room before Filthy took a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaled from his mouth. "Now then… why had you been ignoring the ban?" Filthy asked, in as calm a voice as he could manage.
Discord grinned, and rather cheekily. Yet, there was just a hint of rage glinting in his eyes, Filthy noticed. "Well, when someone calls you a clown, not with their words, but with their tone, what else are you supposed to do, take it lying down?" He thumbed to himself with his paw. "It's like calling Tempest Shadow a stick in the mud, or Princess Celestia fat—and we all know what happens when someone calls Princess Celestia fat."
Filthy nodded, having heard some rubbish or other about an incident involving a mare named Zesty Gourmand. He didn't have too many details, but he did know the end result—the food critic had been blackballed from the industry, through nothing more than negative press alone. "So, the crows, and the spider, and the barking and meowing and everything else… that was basically your retaliation for the perceived insult?" he asked slowly, more to comprehend the sheer scope of it all than anything else.
"Why, yes and no," Discord said, still wearing his cheeky grin. Was his sharpest, longest tooth glinting in the light with glitter, or was that Filthy's imagination. "You see, I had been… told, in no uncertain terms, to not bring any lasting physical harm to anypony. Japes were good, but… loopholes are loopholes, as they say." He scooted the chair a bit closer, not that he needed to with his long body. "So I figured, why not boost sales with my own chaotic flair? I never knew I had a business streak until recent events, and I must say, it's wonderfully chaotic, when you're me and have a limitless wealth of power at your disposal."
Filthy nodded, willing to roll with that explanation. "Yes, but have you considered seeing things from the eyes of a normal pony, who doesn't have that limitless power?" he asked.
Discord nodded. "Oh, some days I lock most of my power, and go out and about as a regular pony. Sometimes, though, this little gubbins called morphic resonance makes things tough, though fortunately most don't notice," he chirped. "Truth be told, I was surprised you even did double-takes in my direction, during that little investor's meeting—much less heeded my advice when I suggested you arrange your paintings in a certain theme."
Filthy would have gaped and needed to scrape his lower jaw off of the floor with a spatula, if he had even been the least amount of surprised by the confession. As it was, the limitless power Discord had really did do some wonders for recent sales, he had to admit. On the negative side, it left customers asking more questions than answers could be procured, and he wondered if he could make up some horseapples to justify the whole thing. On the positive, more paintings were flying off the shelves, in accordance to certain themes and often in tandem with other related items, and he was glad he had followed that advice.
So that left the ultimate question: would he wise up and apologize for the perceived slight, or would he subject himself to more whimsical, if harmless, chaotic torment? He weighed the pros and cons of both, before settling on the former. "In that case, I would like to extend a formal apology for any slights committed against you, both real and perceived," he said, extending his hoof for a shake. "It's… been a more stressful time managing the stores as of late, trying to stay afloat for the summer to coast into winter."
Discord clasped the hoof with his paw, and shook it. "Perfectly understandable; business is ever a chaotic venture. Apology accepted," he chirped with a grin. He retracted his paw, and reclined casually in his chair, at least, as much as the chair itself would allow without tipping over. "That being said, there is that stick in the mud… what was his name, Blueblood? I feel he could do with another few descents down the pegs, as it were."
Filthy rose his brow. "Did he… slight you in some way?" he asked.
Discord rolled his eyes. "If you count being as stuck-up as he is being a slight," he answered. "And truth be told, he's a little too… orderly for my tastes, and useless otherwise."
“Uh huh…”
“That, and while you inferred that I was little more than a nuisance and a clown, he said it outright.”
Filthy nodded. He did remember the day in question. “If I may, I definitely overreacted. My intent in banning you from the store was less about removing you, but trying to keep my customers from running off. I didn’t want them all being lost in the maze you crafted, or frightened off by singing paintings, or what have you. You must understand that in the frey, I was terrified that they may not return. I can’t afford to be losing customers. It wasn’t personal, just business.”
“You should have seen the things I did to the other vendors,” smiled Discord. “Drawing in so much attention that their sales figures went up significantly. I thought it only fair that I offer you the same gesture.”
“And I appreciate that, in hindsight. Really, I do. You’ve sold off things that I had no idea how to market. That said, I would be lying if I said that this whole tizzy hasn’t been exceptionally stressful. Your ban is lifted, but if you’re going to be piping any more chaos into my store, can you ask me, first?”
Discord rolled his eyes like a pair of fuzzy dice. “Oh, if you insist. I was just about done, anyway. I only had a few things left in mind, anyway.”
Filthy cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t plan out any more?”
Discord stuck his nose into the air and touched his paw to his chest. “I am the lord of all chaos. I should know better than anypony that crazy things happen all the time that can ruin even the most well-made schemes. The best laid plans of mice and mares often go awry, in no small part thanks to me. If I were to plan out the minutia, I would have no room to adapt.”
Filthy nodded. “That does track with you.”
Discord twisted around so that he was facing away from Filthy and bent his head backward to look at him upside-down. “It tracks with you, too. Honestly, I’m sort of impressed how well you resisted some of my charms. You’re definitely doing better than Blueblood.”
Filthy cleared his throat. “I heard about his little debacle the other day. I’m guessing that you had a hoof in– *ahem* a claw in that?”
“I did, but not in the way you might think.”
Filthy leaned forward, steeled his gaze, and leered into Discord’s eyes.
Discord raised his claw. “Honest. I told you before that I’m not allowed to harm you or your business. I dressed him in a funny outfit, changed the pitch of his voice, and made him a little bit dirty. I also may have made his speech more interesting. I did not tell him to attack that camerapony; he did that on his own.”
“And what about the incident before that?”
“With him being asked to leave a restaurant? I put washable paint in his soap. If he had taken the time to look at himself in any mirror, he would have noticed. He’s the one who decided to yell at that waitress. He’s also the one who decided that he wanted to wear a mare’s dress. I didn’t have the time to give him all the details, after all.”
Filthy pressed his hooves to his temple and rubbed. “What I’m about to say does not leave this room. This is a private conversation between you and me, and anypony who asks about what was said does not need to know what I’m about to say. Is that clear?”
Discord wiggled his index finger and clicked his tongue. “Secret secrets are no fun. Secret secrets hurt someone.” Immediately after saying this, he snapped his claw, and Filthy’s desk and both chairs disappeared, immediately replaced. The desk was now a table, Filthy was sitting in a salon chair with his mane in curlers being blown dry, while Discord filed at his hoof with an emery board, sitting on a spinning barstool. “Now, dish on those deets, girlfriend. What’s the hot goss?”
Filthy sighed. “This is between you and me. Tell me that you understand that.”
“Of course, hun, of course!” Discord pushed up on the side of his blond perm wig. “Now spill that tea!”
Filthy took a deep breath. Could he really trust the lord of chaos with this statement? He supposed that, if he couldn’t, there was no turning back now.
“To be perfectly candid,” he paused and looked around to make sure he was still in his office, “I’m not exactly the biggest fan of Prince Blueblood.”
“Ooh, saucy!”
“The reason I had him in here was to invest some money so that this project didn’t go under before it had the chance to really fly. You know how business is.”
“So, you don’t like him?”
“Not personally, no. But I feel that, being privy to this information, it would be a dereliction of duty if I did not ask you to refrain from messing with him.”
Discord’s jaw dropped as he slowly gasped.
“Please, I mean no offense by that. I’m not trying to insult you. I just don’t want you insulting him. And I’m saying that, even though I think his business practices are very shady. I don’t much care for him, but, I’m asking you, as one intelligent being to another, to please let him be.”
For a few seconds, Discord was silent. He leaned back on his stool as far as it could go without falling over on itself, then a little bit further. Filthy was sure it would fall over, but no, it just balanced as if gravity did not matter in the slightest.
After a minute, Discord stood up, leaving the barstool lopsided. “You know, one of the few things in Equestria that I draw immense joy from is my dear, sweet Fluttershy. It is because of her faith in me that I’m even allowed to roam Equestria in the first place, and it is she that has restricted my activity to jokes and japes. Very persuasive is she, in that her kindness towards me knows its bounds. I see much the same in you, so as a personal favour, one friend to another, I will not add anything else to the list of gaffs and giggles I was going to have at his expense.”
Filthy nodded. "Excellent. I suppose we can call this matter concluded?" he asked, extending his hoof again. Discord nodded, and shook his hoof in return.
Discord grinned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be, and some new gizmos from the market to try out in my own little pocket world," he said, reaching down his side and into a pocket that hadn't been previously attached to his side. He pulled a door out of it, placed it behind him, and opened it up to reveal a chaotic house beyond, where Filthy could see that the furniture was running the asylum in Discord's absence. Among the items he could see moving and singing was a spring coil running a marathon on the yard, somersaulting away on momentum alone.
"Take care," Filthy said, watching as Discord strode into the door he had made and closed it behind him. Once the door closed, it melted into confetti and a cutesy little card, addressed to him specifically. Filthy stood up, trotted around the desk, and bent over a little to pick up the card—after poking it with his hoof first, to see if it had been boobytrapped. Upon finding no such shenanigans abound, he tenderly placed the card on his desk, and moved to sweep up the confetti.
Strange, it almost looked like birthday confetti, complete with "happy birthday" shaped masses strewn therein. He pondered for a moment… wasn't his daughter's birthday coming up? She had said she wanted more confetti this time around, more jaunty tunes, more… liveliness, as opposed to the boring drab dances of the upper crust that her mother wanted her to attend, or some such rot like that.
Ever since she had made friends with the Crusaders, he thought, she had been… different, in a way. Less… stuck-up, but still relatively sure of herself. He smiled to himself, and finished gathering the confetti into the dustpan, looking about his office to see if he could tuck it away somewhere for that upcoming celebration.
Huh, a box on his personal shelf that wasn't there before… or had it been, and he had not been paying attention? He trotted over to inspect it, finding it a pleasant pink color with a white ribbon on top, and wasted no time checking it for more chaos-born shenanigans and the like. Finding nothing of the sort, he opened it and found it empty. He set the box on the floor to deposit the confetti into it, making a mental note to find a balloon to repurpose the stuff later. Once the mess was cleaned, he closed the box, put it back on the shelf, and wrote a note to himself on a sticky note to take it home with him, along with some other odds and ends.
He smiled again, knowing just what he would put in that box when the time came—the perfect spot to hide a fancy necklace. He had to buy it first, but right now, he wasn't particularly hurting in the monetary sense, and for his daughter… he'd splurge, just a little. And in Canterlot, he knew exactly where to find the particular item he sought. Hopefully, he'd find it on sale soon, perhaps even with the price slashed somewhat as part of a deal.
He imagined his daughter kicking her hooves off the ceiling over it, and if her mother didn't approve of it, tough beans, she'd have to deal with it just the same. He'd give her a safe, too, to tuck away the precious gift, in case mother dearest went down the route of sabotage. It wouldn't hurt to be careful.
He turned back to the card and trotted to it, slowly standing it up on its end, gently opening one flap with a hoof to see if a cannon ball would shoot out over his head. Nothing happened—no pies to the face, no confetti in his eyes, nothing. It was as if the card had not been touched by any other being on the planet, except for perhaps the manufacturer.
The card had been written in standard Equish, and drawn up with the cutie marks of Twilight and her friends. Weird choice, but given that the card came from Discord of all beings, that did make some semblance of sense to Filthy. In the center of the cutie marks was a panel with a picture that moved, depending on the angle he held the card at. As the card was on his desk, it was stationary for the moment, showing Discord and the Bearers of Harmony in a photo that was upside-down.
Written below that picture was something Filthy had somewhat expected, yet hadn't at the same time.
To my dearest businessmane Filthy Rich,
I do hope my apology was sincere enough for your liking, as sincere as I found yours to be. I know this is unorthodox coming from me, but in the end, aren't we all just chess pieces on a board, serving the whims of maniacs that even we cannot question?
Best regards,
Daddy Discord
P.S. Tell Diamond Tiara I said happy birthday this coming Saddleday.
Filthy smiled and nodded, and gently closed the card before stowing it away in his desk drawers. An apology of this nature, no matter how nonsensical and unorthodox, was not one turned down so lightly, especially coming from Discord. Once the treasure was tucked away, he checked the time on the wall-mounted clock above his door.
Hrm, another four hours until closing time. He and at least three cashiers had already had their lunch breaks, and it was about time for him to tell the last one, Chivalry, to go ahead and take his. Better sort that out, then. He trotted around the desk, to the door, and opened it… to find the pony he was looking for outside, hoof raised to knock.
Filthy smiled at his employee. "Excellent timing, Chivalry. I was about to tell you to take your lunch break," he said.
Chivalry nodded, and lowered his hoof. "Well, I was about to ask you about something else…" He frowned a little. "We were able to clean up the pie's mess, and the bits that were afflicted by it, and… we found this in the register." He jerked his head towards his backside, and angled his body to reveal a bundle of wrapped balloons, done up in plaid ribbons and decidedly not full of hot air. "What should we do with it?"
Filthy frowned in contemplation. "Was it in the till?" he asked.
Chivalry nodded. "Yes. And we don't carry these balloons or ribbons, so I thought you'd know what to do, bossman."
Filthy nodded, and gently plucked the balloons and ribbons off of his employee's back. "I'll figure this out; thanks for letting me know," he said, smiling gently. "Now, about that lunch break of yours… Did you pack something to eat today?"
Chivalry nodded. "It’s heating in the oven now," he answered. "I'll go break out, and then break back in thirty minutes." With that, he trotted off, leaving Filthy with the balloons. As promised, I did leave Filthy alone after that, but the same… it cannot be said of that ponce, Blueblood.