A Pony For Her Birthday, Iteration 3

Confused? Iteration One is here.


"Max, what have you done?"

She could hear his surprise through the phone. "What do you mean, what have I done? I created a pony that is completely safe for Stacy to ride."

"Max, that's... not a pony. I don't know what it is, but it's not a pony."

"What? Of course it's a pony. A full seventy percent of its genetic base is--"

"I don't care about its genetic base, Max. It has wings."

"She wanted a pony with wings. That's also why it has a horn. It's not like it actually flies."

"That's true, it doesn't fly." Samantha took a deep breath, then let it out. "Okay, fine. It was meant to be a winged pony with a horn."

"...Which will not crash into things, and which our daughter will not fall off of. The tentacles were a very effective addition, were they not?"

"Well..." Samantha hesitated. "I'll grant you, I don't think there's any way Stacy can fall off her... present."

"So what's the problem?"

"Max, she has sucker-marks all up and down her legs. How I'm going to explain that to her teacher, I can't begin to imagine."

There was a momentary hesitation. "Well, yes, I suppose that could be a difficulty. Still, a proper set of riding pants should fix that. Is Stacy, at least, happy with her new pony?"

Samantha hesitated. "Yes," she admitted at last. "Stacy's happy with it, even if it isn't a pony."

"Why do you keep saying that? I've explained the wings. I've explained the horn. I've explained the tentacles. Why do you keep insisting that Stacy's new pony isn't a pony?"

"Because ponies don't slither, Max." Samantha took another breath, and waited to hear his response.

"Well," said Maximilian Savage in his most dignified tone of voice, "this one does."

I give up, Samantha thought. I'm never going to get him to see this my way. Relenting, she said, "I guess it doesn't matter. Stacy loves it, and that's what counts, right?"

"I would think so," Max replied stiffly. There was a long pause, and then he added: "Has she spoken to you about Christmas?"

"...What about Christmas?" Samantha asked warily.

"She's asked for a gene sequencer of her own, with a two-ton growth tank."

Samantha Woodman cradled the phone and let that thought sink in. There was, she thought, no way to escape. Finally, she shook her head. "Send me the specs. Maybe we can set it up in the barn or something."

"Thank you, Samantha." Max's voice was warm. "It means a lot to me. And it will mean more to Stacy."

"Yeah." Samantha chuckled. "I don't know if I can survive having two of you doing this stuff, but I guess I'd better start figuring out how."