A Unicorn's Tale, Part 4

4.

     We stopped off in Juneau and the North Pole before ending up on a rooftop in downtown Tokyo.        Tokyo carries crazy connotations, for a unicorn. It is our Las Vegas. It is kind of like Vegas, too, in that we take a gamble walking on ground level, what with all the cars that cannot see us and the millions who are too busy fiddling with their technology to notice a sparkling equine trying to get by without goring anyone. I mean, it’s bad enough being this short without having a horn thing between your eyes that you can’t even see half the time, if you can imagine that.
     Anyway, the guy named Ned puked all over the polishing tile of a rooftop Tokyo betting hall. Larry was going to let him down into it and all, but I angled my head so that my horn caught his armpit and only pulled his Converse through the mess.
     “Larry, buddy, can I have that rider when you’re done with him?” One of the unicorns standing in a buffet line strutted up to where Larry was polishing his hoofs against the tile.  He was one of those type who probably think they’re hot stuff, with all that mane-shaking and tail-twitching.
The only thing I really noticed about him other than his attitude was the pink icing over his upper lip.
     “Go ahead, Spartacus. I’m done with that guy.” Larry was wiping his hooves extra-long on the tile. He probably thought he had stepped in Ned’s vomit, which the cleaning crew were lifting with a vacuum tube canister they took turns powering with rapid hoof presses. Unicorns have tried patenting the device, but it is only practical for use by unicorns and really determined dairy cows.
Spartacus strutted towards the long-haired Ned, who had staggered off in the direction of the caramel tables.
     “Did you really mean that?” I asked Larry.
     “Kid, I can get my passengers wherever, whenever.”
     “Okay, calm your coat. I was just going to say, what’s next? You were going to leave me here and take that guy to KFC or something.”
     Larry rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t going to just leave you here. Come on, I want you to meet someone.”
     We passed through the aisles of spun sugar and chocolate drops, the dice games and the guessing games. Larry started turning towards the shadowed part of the roof, the part further away from the betting tables than any other part.
    “Hey, Mikey,” Larry called.
     A unicorn emerged from a pack of clean and serious unicorns. He did not speak, but nodded.
     “I got a bouncer for ya,” Larry said.
     Mikey fixed his eyes on me. I could not look at his sharp eyes, only at his mouth when he said,           “You want some candy, kid?” The whole jaw moved disjointedly, as if some time recently it had been broken and reassembled by someone with a lousy sense of humor.
     When I did not answer Larry nudged me. “Yeah,” I said. I cleared my throat and said, thinking it would make a good impression, “who doesn’t want candy?”
     Mikey turned to my mentor. “You got a kiss-up here, Larry.”
     “I just found him.” Larry gave a shrug, a gestured he had obviously picked up from human teenagers. “He’s got no family.”
     “His parents don’t wonder where he’s at?”
     “I’m his guardian.”
     “You?” Mikey did not laugh, but he made the idea seem ludicrous. Some of his pack snickered. I thought it was time to step in again.
     “My mom ran off when I was a foal, sir,” I said. “I’m looking for my father, Octavian Silverhorn, Senior.” I guess I was. I never expressly thought that, but I guess I was.
     Mikey gave me the old once-over, and then he said, “So you like candy, huh? Well, I’ve got loads.”
     Larry breathed out really quickly all of a sudden, as if he had been holding his breath. I did not know this then, but he had racked up a fair amount of debt with Mikey. Even having magic doesn’t always pay.
     That’s why Mikey took me to a holding pen and I did not see Larry until after my first race. I did not know what was going on when a couple of brawny unicorns escorted me to an elevator and brought me across the street, down the sidewalk, and through a park.
     In the pre-dawn light I was still shivering from a night spent in a strange place in a room paneled with Sonys and stereo speakers spewing out K-Pop originals. My kind does not do well when we are overwhelmed with new information, which is why we usually stay away from metropolitan areas unless we are in desperate need of a passenger or carbohydrates. Sometimes we do both and pick up a rider just outside of a sweet shop.
     But I already told you about what happened in Pasadena. Anyway, as we were cutting through the park I heard a roar rise up from a thicket of sweet-smelling bushes. My bodyguards took me into the thicket. In the thicket was a clearing, and in the clearing stood about fifty unicorns fanned out in a semi-circle.
    “Good, you’re here,” said Mikey. “Stand here, right where I’m standing.”
    “Where’s Larry?”
    “Larry’s sleeping off the effects of last night’s frolickings. Stand here and don’t move until I tell you.”
     I did what he said and ended up standing next to five other young unicorns. A clean and serious unicorn stood near each one of them, whispering into their ears.
     “Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing. You’re going to flip the tables on them. They think you don’t know what you’re doing, and you don’t, but that’s not going to matter.” Mikey dumped a flashing metal band over my horn. “That’s a passenger counter. When you’ve given three passengers a ride you get to come back and press that big red button over there. Look, kid, whatever your name is, stop fidgeting and pay attention. There’s hundreds of unicorns watching these races. The more we can get to bet their candy on you, the more candy you and I get. But only if you win. Is that clear? Don’t answer that. Just get three passengers and get back. Alright, now we’re starting. Go!”
     I looked up from the grass just in time to see a unicorn toss a bright green mane, probably dyed for that very purpose. The young unicorns bounced out of the clearing. The spectators shouted a heap of jumbled names and praises. Everything was new and loud and bright.
    I could barely remember my own name. I could only just remember what bouncing was, let alone how to do it. I stood in the clearing for who knows how long before Mikey shouted, “Do it, kid! Bounce!”

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