JazzTeeth-Unnamed

>You're trying to sleep and failing spectacularly.
>Something is going all a bump-bump-thump on your porch.
>Probably a dragon or one of fluttershy's wayward strays chewing on some of the chairs you have out there.
>You are not going to deal with that right now.
Thump Thump.
>Cover your head with a pillow.
Bump Thump Thud.
>Fine. Fine fine fine. You throw back your covers, slip on some shoes, leave your room, close the door, open the door, put on pants, and head out the room again.
>Your front room is filled with what little gentle glow that comes from your porchlight.
>Shadows play across the wall and carpet. Yup. Definitely some kind of animal getting its jollies out there.
>It's pretty...fluttery and...
>You grab a bat and pull the curtain back with two fingers very slowly.
>You see something outside.
>And...and that is a new thing that you are seeing. You groan because you don't want to deal with this sort of thing at one in the A.M.
Thump Thump Scuttle
>Enough is enough. You ease the front door open with as much quiet as it could manage.
>The porchlight dances around like a candlelight.
>A big fuzzy bug pony is skittering around it in middair. It's not a pegasus. They normally don't have a downy tuft around their chests. Or antennae.
>Or big fuzzy butterfly wings.
>Uh.
>What in god's name are you looking at?
>The thing flits around the light like it's sending messages from beyond the grave. It's like some kind of drug based on the electromagnetic spectrum. You notice that a small swarm of bugs are hovering on the edge of the porch like a group of suitors waiting for the next dance.
>They must be scared of this big...whatever it is.
>Your hand reaches for the switch on the inside wall.
>You flick the light off.
>The flying thing fumbles down onto its back. Its legs kick helplessly in the air.
"Oh. Oh."
>Bright blue eyes practically glow in the dark. She squeezes them shut and rubs them quickly with her forelegs like a cat.
"Ah. So...Oh."
>She tries to smile. Her luminous eyes dart quickly to the porchlight. She fidgets in the same way you do when caught looking at dirty pictures.
"I like your house? And your porch?"
>Her voice is high pitched, but with a slight rasp. Like someone talking with a throat full of fuzz. She's wrestling a big bear made of embarrasment.
"I promise I don't do this often. Or I don't get caught often."
>She presses her chin into her tuft. Her antannae curl forward like she's trying to hide her face.
>This is the seventh weird thing you've ran into today.
>"What exactly are you?" Her antennae pop up like feathers blown in the wind.
"Me? I'm a moth pony."
>"Oh god, how many of you things are there?" She fluttered backwards.
"I'm sorry?"
>"Never mind. Thinking out loud. Alright. Talking bugs, neato." You take a deep breath. "Fantastic."
"I'm not a bug..."
>She frowned. She inched vaguely closer to the heavenly light bulb.
>"Do you do this every night?" Her wings chippered and flicked. Her eyes were half-lidded in oncoming bliss.
"Not...every night...it was just so..."
>She sighed dreamily.
"Lovely looking...."
>You turn the light off. She yelped in shock.
"Oh no!"
>She grasped the lifeless light fixture between her forehooves. Civility reasserted itself in short-order and she hovered backwards.
"No. I mean. Of course I don't have a habit of this. That would be..."
>All of her limbs exploded outward and her voice piped like a rubber duck.
"HOW CAN YOU JUST TURN IT OFF! HOW CAN YOU NOT JUST LOOK IT ALL THE TIME!"
>"I like my retinas to work."
>She eased back.
"Sorry. Sorry. Reflex." She took a deep breath. "Bad first impressions. Please don't think I sneak onto other people's property every night. I have an actual job and a life and...and...you don't believe me, do you?"
>"I don't think you believe yourself." Her antennae flop down again.
"I have errands to do tonight..."
>"You should probably go do them, yeah?" She nodded helplessly.
"Yeah."
>She looked at the dark bulb sullenly.
"I'll just be on my way then...."
>She hovered off your porch.
"See you around or something?"
>She waved hopefully at you. You realize she may be saying goodbye to the porchlight.
>"Just might, just might."
"Nice. Erm. Meeting you."
>She's halfway across your front lawn. She wriggles her tail.
"Oh, my name is Mimas. Or Mi-Mi. Or Mi. But no one's ever called me Mi. Except me."
>It's like watching cold syrup drip out the bottle.
>You tell her your name.
"Okay. Okay. Take care then."
>"Good night, Mi-Mi."
>She waved again more quickly, more desperately. She fluttered away. You could tell she looked back several times because her blue eyes flashed in the dark.
>You step back in your home. Back to bed. Sleep. You need sleep. Sleep. You will consider the impotance of moth ponies another day.
>Sleep.
>Close your eyes. Wait a sec.
>If there are moth ponies...
>Then there could be other insect ponies.
>Like spider ponies.
>Eyes open.
>You worry they'll never close again.