Sailor Moon Fan Fiction ❯ How Bad ❯ The Pinkest Unicorn ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: I thought it might be appropriate to mention that I'm going to stick (mostly) to beings within this solar system, in the interest of cutting down the already unfortunate amount of characters. I probably won't ignore other areas of the galaxy completely, but there won't be an awful lot said about them. Also, there are some (minor) swear words in this chapter (and others). I don't think that the small amount I've used warrants a higher rating, but if anyone thinks otherwise, please feel free to mention it and I'll change it.

 

Chapter Four: The Pinkest Unicorn

 

“…So the pinkest unicorn trotted happily through the candy cane meadow of sunshine and perpetual joy. Trot trot trot. `I will get some oats' she thought. Trot trot trot. `Oh how wonderful it is to be a pink unicorn!'” I glanced upward nervously. This was by far the most difficult audience I'd ever had. And I didn't mean the children.

 

The nine foreign dignitaries were squeezed into squat yellow chairs more than three sizes too small for them. No one looked too pleased with the situation, but, after the boys had screamed for the better part of an hour, it was decided that the book was the lesser of the two evils.

 

All in all, I think I handled the situation rather well. After the initial mass-panic, that is.

 

I had stood, gaping, at the door, uncertain of what to tell them. After all, I wasn't allowed to tell the truth, and I knew it would be a bad idea to even think of letting on about the door. We were now trapped in a palace full of assassins. And wasps. Both at the same time. Not a good impression to make.

 

“Um … “ I turned to the staring dignitaries, “There's been a - a slight delay in the proceedings. Shouldn't be long.”

 

“What kind of delay?” asked the man with the wild hair.

 

“Oh…well—“ I considered my words carefully. “Wasps.” I blurted. So much for considering my words carefully. Maybe it would be alright. The second advisor had said that I wasn't to say a word about the situation, but, thinking it over, he may have meant the assassins part, anyway. Besides, other than wasps or assassins, what else could possibly detain the meeting? I couldn't very well say that the king had the runs.

 

“Wasps?” roared the yellow bearded man, “I'm not afraid of wasps! Move aside!” When a guy that huge says move aside, you move aside. He pushed the door with all his might. The doorknob rattled, then fell off, leaving a complicated set of gears encrusted with raspberry jam.

 

“Stuck!” He yelled. And that's about when the mass panic thing happened.

 

“What will we do?”

 

“How long will we be in here?”

 

“Wait, everyone,” I said, struggling to make my voice heard, “It's alright, really. As soon as they get rid of the wasps, they'll come get us.” No one was listening to me. The boys huddled around my legs again, thus completely immobilizing me. Fabulous.

 

“'Malthea, make them stop!” begged Endymion, throwing his arms around my waist.

“Uh … well, I'm trying but I don't know if I—“

 

“You don't know?” Nephrite's eyes went wide.

 

“Don't worry, they'll—“

 

“Hold on! Let me through!” The wild haired man pushed through the throng. “If we can't open it by brute force, let's try and solve this intellectually.” He examined the gears in the door and tried to fit the doorknob back into its proper place.

 

“Hmm…” he said, scratching his chin.

 

“Well?” asked the tall woman.

 

“Oh, I see!”

 

“Aha,” said the woman in gold, “and just what do you see?”

 

“The problem.”

 

“Now we're getting somewhere! Can you fix it?” asked the gold woman.

 

“Yes.”

 

Everyone cheered.

 

“Wonderful!” said the lunar dignitary, “Now, get on with it.”

 

“Oh, I can't do it here.”

 

“What?!” everyone yelled.

 

“I thought you could fix it,” grumped the man in the black headdress.

 

“I can. Just, not without the proper tools.”

 

“Could it be possible,” said the crimson robed man, looking to me, “that there would be something we could use in this room?”

 

I shook my head. “Not unless you want a wooden hammer or a paintbrush. We don't even have hairpins in here.”

 

The wild haired man sighed. “It doesn't matter anyway. This door needs a whole new set of gears and tumblers—not exactly something the average person would have just lying around. These are amazingly complicated, for a simple doorknob. The jam completely ruined the mechanism.”

 

“How did jam get into the doorknob?” asked the gold woman.

 

“It's a long story,” I said. The children whistled innocently, shifting their eyes to the wall.

 

“If we are going to be here for a while, we'd best make ourselves comfortable,” the crimson robed man said.

 

“Well…we do have these,” I gestured to the little yellow chairs. One thing I will remember for the rest of my life is the sight of nine proud foreign dignitaries lowering themselves into miniature chairs, wiping off traces of jam distastefully.

 

And then the second freak-out began. I should've known. The boys hadn't destroyed anything in almost half an hour. They had a lot of excess energy. Surprisingly, my words to them from before had really made an impression. They wanted a story and they wanted it now.

 

The dignitaries had their own ideas.

 

“Since we're all here, we could start the meeting…” said the gold woman.

 

“Without the King? That doesn't sound very fair,” said the lunar dignitary.

 

“In a playroom? Never!” exclaimed the woman with the beads in her hair.

 

“Well, I don't see why we can't get a few minor issues hammered out,” said the wild haired man, “No sense in wasting time.” He jabbed the soldier of time with his elbow. Yeah, like she hadn't heard that one before. It must be difficult, to be a senshi, I decided. (Especially for the soldier of Uranus…)

 

The soldier of time glared.

 

“Oh please,” said the man with the black headdress, “spare us the pitiable Mercurian humor!”

 

“Was that a racial slur?”

 

“So what if it was?” grumped the man in the black headdress.

 

Uh-oh.

 

“Please, we are all here to resolve our differences. Let us stop the petty arguing,” said the man in the crimson robes.

 

“Oh yes, that's a lot coming from a Martian!” said the gold woman.

 

“Excuse me? Why can't you Venusians leave that alone? The war was two-hundred years ago!” said the tall woman.

 

“You stay out of this! Your lot are no better than they are! Or have you forgotten the Venusian Massacre?”

 

“You're just sour because your planet always gets its collective butt kicked in battle.”

 

“Oh, and being a race of lumbering behemoths is something to be proud of? You're almost as bad as the Uranians!”

 

“No one insults Uranus!” boomed the yellow bearded man.

 

“It's hard not to, with a name like that!” said the tall woman nastily.

 

“Let's all just calm down,” said the lunar dignitary, “I know some unpleasant things have been said but let's—“

 

“Shove it, moon-boy!” said the tall woman.

 

“Okay, I'm sensing some anger here. Why don't we—“

 

“Unpleasant? Unpleasant?! She just insulted the Order of Uranus, an offense punishable by death!” The yellow bearded man began to get red in the face.

 

“Hmph, barbarians, all of you,” muttered the woman with the beads in her hair.

 

“Well, we can't all be namby-pamby little peacemakers like moon-boy over here, and gods help us if we were all stuck up snobs like you Neptuni!” said the man in the black headdress.

 

“At least we don't regularly perform human sacrifices!” She sniffed.

 

Oh, this was not going well.

 

“We're all sick of explaining that to the rest of you; the Great Goddess Sat must be appeased if the sun is to continue to burn!”

 

The wild-haired man cleared his throat. “Actually scientific evidence has basically disproved this—“

 

“Don't give me your scientific evidence, Mercurian! Look where it's gotten us!”

 

“What, running water and adequate medical care?”

 

“Huh, what about the influx of lab-created hell-beasts, huh? Every time a giant howling monster rampages through the solar system, you'll find a broken collar lying around somewhere with a tag saying `Property of some dim-witted, irresponsible Mercurian'. And, when he's called before the Intergalactic Council he'll say `I only wanted to see what would happen if I crossed a marauding land tiger with an angry snitter-vole! I didn't know it would destroy half the galaxy, honest! Whine whine whine, don't kill my clearly dangerous creation; it's not his fault, poor baby!' Mad scientists, all of you,” snapped the man with the black headdress.

 

“Well, if you can't appreciate the value of modern science—“

 

“Value! Hmph. You Mercurians can't appreciate the value of a paper bag!” said the woman with the beads.

 

“I demand an apology from the Jovian wench!” the yellow bearded man pointed one sausage-like finger at the tall woman.

 

“Wench? How dare you?”

 

“I say that you all -“

 

“SHUT UP MOON-BOY!” Everyone yelled.

 

“Hey, I am the official Lunar dignitary, and I don't have to put up with this! Do you know how much time the moon spends on sorting out your petty arguments?”

 

“The moon should mind its own damn business for once!” shrieked the gold woman.

 

It was all pretty much downhill from there. The fact that the boys were loudly demanding a story the whole time didn't help. Not one bit.

 

“Well, excuse us for trying to promote Galactic peace!”

 

“'Malthea, we want a story!”

 

“Uncultured slob!”

 

“Story!”

 

“Sexist pigs!” This was, apparently, directed at the entire male population, rather than just the man with the yellow beard.

 

“Stoooorrrrrryyyyyyyyyy!”

 

“Mad scientists, mad scientists, mad scientists!”

 

“Wench!”

 

“Hypocrite!”

 

“STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

 

“Will someone shut those kids up?”

 

I fumbled with a book.

 

“Not that story!”

 

“Lumbering swine!”

 

“Noooo!”

 

“On guard!”

 

My eyes widened. “Um…could we, could we not have a duel in the middle of the playroom?”

 

“STORY!”

 

“Shut those kids up!”

 

“I can't, there's too much yelling!” Halfway through my sentence, everyone paused, perhaps to take a breath, and I was left screaming all by myself. I flushed.

 

“Er. Now that I've got your attention,” I began, unwilling to waste such an opportunity, “Could it be possible to sort this—“

 

“Story, now!”

 

“Yes, in a minute—out another time?”

 

“I say—“

 

“Now!”

 

The lunar dignitary covered his ears. The boys had gotten their second wind and resumed hollering with new energy.

 

“We have to stop this noise!” he shouted. It was, quite possibly, the first statement that they could all agree upon.

 

“But how?” yelled the gold woman, struggling to be heard over the din.

 

“They want a story,” I informed her.

 

“Well, give them a story!” boomed the man with the yellow beard.

 

“What they need is a good spanking!” howled the man with the black headdress.

 

“Now's not the time for disciplinary tactics,” shouted the woman with the beads in her hair.

 

“Yes, we should just get them to stop the noise, for now!” The crimson robed man plugged his thumbs in his ears.

 

“I disagree—,” the wild haired man went off, cupping his hands to amplify his voice. Of course you do. I thought. Here we go again.

 

“Everyone—“ the lunar dignitary stood on his chair.

 

“Shut up, m—“ began the tall woman.

 

“Let's hear what he has to say,” said the soldier of time. It was hard to disagree with the tone of voice she used.

 

“Why don't we have a vote on it?” He yelled.

 

They chorused their approval.

 

The lunar dignitary hopped onto the table.

 

“No, you can't count the votes!” The wild-haired man waved him off. “We need a neutral party!”

 

All eyes turned to me.

 

“Uh…what should I do?” Getting down from the table, the lunar dignitary told me. I made my way to the center of the room and leaned against the table.

 

I coughed. “Okay! All in favor of reading a story?” The man with the yellow beard, the soldier of time, the woman with the beads in her hair, the lunar dignitary, the gold woman, and the man in the crimson robes raised their hands.

 

“All against?” The man in the black headdress, the tall woman, and the wild haired man raised their hands.

 

“So, it's six to three, in favor of reading it!” I winced, hoping that no one would call for a recount or anything. By now, I also had a pounding headache from the children's screaming, and a sore throat from all of the screaming I had to do to be heard over them.

 

To my surprise, all of the dignitaries seemed willing to go along with the verdict.

 

“Hey, guys!” I yelled to the children, “We're gonna read a story now!”

 

“Yay!”

 

“But everybody has to sit down and be quiet first!” I said. Sighing, they sat semicircle around a small stool. Even the dignitaries arranged themselves in the little yellow chairs. (You're never too old to hear a good story.)

 

I walked to the bookcase.

 

“What to read? How about `The Little Carriage that Couldn't?” I held up the book.

 

“No!”

 

Okay.

 

“'Goodnight Asparagus'?”

 

No dice.

 

“We could try `A New Coat for Mr. Bun-Bun'.”

 

They made faces.

 

“Um… `Where's Ronaldo?' “

 

I was beginning to get nervous.

 

“`The Tiger, the Itch, and the Boardroom?”

 

They refused.

 

“'Bad Things Happen to Little Boys Who Don't Obey Their Nurses' ?”

 

Alright, that one was never very popular. (At least, not with the children.)

 

After they turned down `The Book of Inane Rhyming Couplets', `Trite Morals for the Young and Impressionable' and `Super Violent Mickey Goes to War-Town (part seven)', I was at my wit's end. The whole situation was compounded by the fact that I had an audience. The dignitaries appeared to find all this very funny.

 

I pulled book after book off the shelf, only to set each one down in the ever-growing reject pile.

 

Finally, I was down to the final two books.

 

“Hey, how about `Perfect Table Manners and You'?” It was worth a shot.

 

“No!” Unsurprising.

 

“Well, I know you don't want to read `The Pinkest Unicorn',” I held up the last book on the shelf, obviously a refugee from a time when little girls graced the playroom.

 

“Yay!” I blinked. Will wonders never cease?

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Story!”

 

“Okay. Story. Whatever makes you happy. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful, fluffy pink unicorn…” In truth, I didn't think it would make them happy. Oh how wrong I was.

 

They all sat quietly, listening to the story. Even Kunzite seemed mildly amused, though he was trying not to show it.

 

“…And then the pinkest unicorn conquered the whole world with her Magic Horn of Sweetness and Light, and she crushed her enemies beneath her sparkly, diamond encrusted hooves. The blood did flow through the streets like water, staining the pretty purple cobblestones, as the putrid stench of the bodies did flow through the air like soft dandelion petals. Amid the cries for mercy, amid the wails of the anguished, and the sobs of misery and woe, the pinkest unicorn did feast upon the delicious flesh of the gingerbread people, thus decimating their entire society in one pink, sparkly blow. All Hail the Pinkest Unicorn! Fear the Might of Her Goodness, Lest Ye be Destroyed by its Sheer, Unyielding Brilliance, Worthless Plebe! Hurrah. Hurrah. Hurrah. The End.”

 

Such a nice story. It had always been my favorite, as a child, and it seemed that several of the female dignitaries remembered it as well.

 

“Good,” said the man with the black headdress, “Now that it's over we can—“

 

“Again!”

 

Still misty-eyed and nostalgic, I agreed. But, after the forty-second re-read, even I was getting tired of that stupid unicorn.

 

“Shouldn't someone have come by now?” asked the gold woman, slumped in her seat.

 

“Wasps can be tricky.” I said, voice hoarse from extolling the exploits of the evil equestrian creature.

 

“Again!”

 

“No more!” begged the dignitaries, “No more!”

 

“Wouldn't you like to hear a different—“

 

“Pinkest Unicorn!” I prayed to every god there ever was to deliver me from the screaming terror that was the Pinkest Unicorn. Something, anything to prevent me from having to read that story again…

 

Crash!

 

“What was that?” said the wild-haired man.

 

“Er…I didn't hear anything.” I said, wringing my hands. Be careful what you wish for.

 

“AAAAH!” All heads snapped upwards, toward the sound.

 

“Now I know there's something.”

 

“Oh that? That was me. Aaaah,” I said, weakly, “It's a head cold. Yes.”

 

BOOM!

 

“What, exactly, is going on here?” The gold woman eyed me suspiciously.

 

“Uh…nothing. Nothing at all. Everything is fine.” Oh yeah, real smooth, Amalthea. You might as well add `There are no assassins here. Nope, no assassins at all.'

 

Suddenly a troop of men crashed through the roof. They were dressed in black and their faces were covered.

 

“Alright, nobody move!” One guy pointed a huge blade in our direction.

 

Well, at least I wouldn't have to read `The Pinkest Unicorn' again.