//------------------------------//
// Sugarcube Corner And More 
// Story: "What's it to You?!" 
// by Sleepy_The_Zebra 
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I probably shouldn't have been reading my book while I ate. I ate slowly -- bending my head down to take a bite of cupcake meant not looking at the words -- and when I finished eating, I just set the plate aside because I was almost done with the chapter. Then the next chapter's title was so interesting I just wanted to read the first paragraph to find out what it was about, then I had to read the rest of the chapter, and then, long story short, I ended up waking up the next morning with Jobs For Ponies laying open on the bed and my muzzle keeping my page. Oops. At least I didn't drool... 
After carefully putting the book on the bedside table -- using my map as a bookmark -- and stretching a little 'cause falling asleep reading makes me Tartarus-cursed sore, I turn to the pile of boxes in the center of my room. I should really do something about that... but first, food. I haven't had anything but a daisy sandwich, a bag of stale chips, and a cupcake since yesterday morning; of-bucking-course I'm hungry. 
I quickly grab the plate from last night (paper plates stink like Tartarus if you leave them out) and go downstairs to the kitchen, only to find it full of boxes and mostly empty of food. The cupboards are open and empty, which I guess makes sense since we just moved here, but it’s still a pain. There is a box of Oat Flakes on the counter, which is better than nothing even if I think it's gross, but there's probably no milk in the fridge. Worth checking anyway, I guess, but I might have to head out for breakfast. I drop the plate in the trash casually as I try to move around the boxes to get to the fridge. 
"You shouldn't bother," I hear from behind me, "we haven't had a chance to get food yet." 
I turn around and see my dad standing at the kitchen entrance. "Well, I guess I'm eating out then. I'll grab some groceries while I'm out, ok?" I reply. I turn to leave, but stop when Dad clears his throat. 
"Listen, sweetie... I know this move must have been stressful for you. If there's anything we can do to help..." He trails off, but I know what he means. And also what I'll say.
"Let me go home." I say it in a sarcastic tone, but I mean it, and Dad knows I mean it, and maybe that's why he seems a little sad when he smiles back and says "Anything else."
"Then I want a dog." I've been asking for various pets since I was in primary school, and I expected the same 'We aren't ready for a pet yet, sweetie' that I've heard every time, but it's worth a try. 
Apparently I’m right to try, because Dad's response is "I'll talk to your mother" instead of a refusal. As he leaves, I smile to myself. I shouldn't get my hopes up, but maybe I'll at least be getting a dog out of this mess. 
Now, for food. First I take a second look at my map to find out where the grocery store and the nearest restaurant that seem like they serve breakfast are. There really isn't much choice -- just a small out of the way place called The Daisy Café, a bakery/restaurant named Sugarcube Corner, and the cheerful-looking Lucky Clover Eatery. Of course, I choose Sugarcube Corner. Who wouldn't want baked goods for breakfast? Besides, it’s relatively close, and the map said there's a marketplace nearby so I can get groceries afterwards without trotting all over town. That's the excuse I can give Mom if she fusses, anyway. 
Replacing my map in Jobs For Ponies, I bump my door closed and trot downstairs. I take care to close the door to the house quietly, since I don't want to wake Mom up just yet, and start off down the street. 


.: • .:. • :.


What is with Ponyville and weird-looking businesses? Sugarcube Corner looks like someone took the winning entry in the Annual Nightmare Night Gingerbread House Festival and turned it into a real house. There's even bucking fake peppermints on the walls! I mean, usually I'm not one to fuss about other's design choices -- Pretty Ribbons has always done enough fussing for the whole town -- but seriously? The roof looks like it's lined with frosting. Why. 
After a few more seconds of unashamedly staring, I shake myself and go inside. What the building looks like doesn't matter, right now I just care about what the food tastes like. The inside isn't quite as... food-like... as the outside, but it's still a bit over-the-top. Why do I still care? I have no idea. 
Anyway. There's a display case under the counter that's immediately visible to anyone walking in the door, staffed by a nervous-looking sky-blue earth pony mare with a mane that looks like pink toothpaste. Off to the side there are tables, so someone can sit down and enjoy their food. The display case is filled with tasty-looking cakes, pies, cupcakes, and other things, and I can already tell I'll be spending a lot of time here. 
I trot up to the counter, smiling at the nervous mare. "What's in that pie?" I ask, pointing to a cut-open pie filled with some sort of dark berry mash. 
"Blackberries, fresh this morning!" the mare exclaims, although she still seems nervous. "We have a sale today, by the way. Two slices of any pie for only 6 jangles!" 
I look to the menu board and see that usually one slice of pie is 4 jangles; that's a fairly good deal. I check to make sure I have 6 jangles to spare in my bag, then put them on the counter. "Two slices of blackberry pie then. Thank you ma'am." I reply. 
The mare hurries to cut two slices out of the pie and give me a plate, which I carry to one of the booths. After the usual nonsense of getting the plate from my back to the table without making a mess (it'd probably be easier to just carry it with my mouth, but I prefer to see where I'm going) I take a bite and immediately decide that yes, I'll be spending a lot of time here while I'm in Ponyville, if all the baked goods they sell are as good as this. Only the fact that handling a fork requires concentration and taking things slowly keeps me eating at a normal pace. 


.: • .:. • :.


I've finished my first piece of pie and am starting my second when someone behind me suddenly announces "It's the next time we see each other! Can we talk now?"
Startled, I drop my fork and turn around, coming muzzle-to-muzzle with the yellow earth pony filly I'd met last night. The unicorn who'd spoken sits to her left, and the pegasus is on her right. For a second I just blink at them, then I remember that I should respond, but all I can come up with is "...What?"
"Las' night ya said if we wanted ta keep talkin', we could do it next time we see each other," the earth pony filly elaborates, "An' now it's the next time we see each other." Well, I can't really deny that, although I hadn't expected they'd take what I said so... literally. "Um, ok," I respond, still slightly off-balance, "Come over here, then. It's easier to talk if we're comfortable."
At my invitation, the pegasus literally jumps over the wall-thing dividing the booths and, with the help of her wings, glides over the table and lands in the seat across from me. Fortunately, the other two don't try the same stunt and just walk over, the unicorn holding a large milkshake with three straws in it. 
"So... why do you still want to talk to me?" I ask, picking up my fork again. The fillies look at me as though it should be obvious.
"We wanted to know how you got a Cutie Mark for arguing. I thought that wasn't possible!" the unicorn exclaims before taking a big sip of milkshake. 
Yeah, I probably should have figured that out. It's true that, technically, my Cutie Mark isn't possible, and if it was someone else who had it I would be asking questions too. I'd like to think I'd ask more tactfully, though. "Sure, I can tell, but there isn't much of a story to it." I say. The fillies just watch me wide-eyed, making it obvious that they want to hear anyway.
"Ok then, prepare for disappointment, but here we go. So, I used to live in a little town even smaller than Ponyville, and we didn't have many big businesses there like this place, just a market where most of the stalls are owned by one family. I think you all have a marketplace like that too, but I might as well explain. So, in the market, most people change their prices based on how much money they think they can get out of you, and it's generally expected that you haggle the price down to something you're willing to pay. All I was doing was haggling with the old goat who sells potatoes, 'cause mom needed some for a new recipe she found, and my flank glowed and I got my cutie mark. Simple as that." 
As I finish talking, the foals blink in almost synchronized confusion (wow) and the earth pony speaks up. "Tha's all? Ya got your Cutie Mark jus' hagglin'?" 
"Told you you'd be disappointed. Sorry if you all were expecting more, but not everyone had a grand revelation of some sort." I reply, a bit more crossly than I'd meant to, but that doubting tone was starting to remind me of how my mom reacted. 
The unicorn sighs and puts her head on the table sadly. "Sorry miss, it's just... we were hoping there was something to the story that could help us get our Cutie Marks." she says, and the other two nod droopily. 
Great, now I feel bad for some reason. Rude. Foals shouldn't use their powers for evil. "Look, you... what're your names anyway?" my train of thought derails as I realize that I don't even know their names yet. 
Apparently the chance to introduce themselves cheers them right up, as they all sit straight up and grin.
"I'm Sweetie Belle!"
"Ah'm Apple Bloom!"
"I'm Scootaloo!"
"And we're..."
"THE CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS! YAY!!!"
The other people at Sugarcube Corner turn and glare at our table, then turn back to their meals with the look of ponies who are used to this behavior. My ears, at least, are not used to this behavior, and I rub one with a hoof to hopefully make some of the ringing go away as I stare at the Crusaders. 
"Well, that's great. It isn't possible to introduce yourselves in an inside voice?" I grumble. The fillies shake their heads cheerfully. "Great."
My fork scrapes the plate and I look down to see that I've apparently finished eating during the conversation. I look back up at the foals and smile at them as I put my plate on my back. "Ok, this was a fun conversation, but I sort of need to go now? I've got groceries to buy. See you all later, hopefully?" Really, I sort of hope it'll be a while until I next see the Crusaders, but it's good to be polite. The three of them look sad to see me go, but when I look back after trashing my plate they're sipping their milkshake and chattering like they hadn't been talking to me a second ago. That's fine by me.
I leave Sugarcube Corner mostly happy and full, and turn in the direction I think the market is. Time to get some food. 


.: • .:. • :.


It took longer than I expected to get to the market, and even longer to find and buy everything I think we need, so it's almost lunchtime and my hooves and voice are sore by the time I get back to the house. At least the boxes in the kitchen have been mostly unpacked and moved out of the way now and the cupboards are full of cookbooks and cooking supplies like they should be. With most of the boxes empty and folded up, it's easy to get to the fridge and put the fresh produce, milk, and bread away relatively neatly (Mom can organize it as she likes later). I'm going up to my room to tackle my own unpacking when I hear my parents talking in the hall and, like any foal would, stop to listen. 
"Do you really think she's ready?" my mom asks, her hooves clacking on the floor as she probably trots in place anxiously. Then there's a pause, probably my dad nodding.
"But there's so much going on in her life right now. Moving, looking for trade schools and such, and --"
"That's exactly why she needs this." Wait, go back a bit. What was that 'and' for? What's the third thing?
"Are you sure she's responsible enough?" Rude. I'm plenty responsible, look who was just out getting food for all of us?
"I'm sure. She needs this, Honey, you know that." Thank you, Dad. At least if they're arguing about what I think they're arguing about.
"But --" If they're going to keep going in circles, it's no use eavesdropping. I go back to the kitchen, close the fridge a bit more loudly, and yell "I'm home! We have food now!" 
The murmur of voices I could still hear from the kitchen immediately stops and I instead hear two sets of hoofsteps come down the stairs. A orangey-gold aura surrounds the fridge handle before Mom is even in the kitchen, and I have to step back to keep from getting hit with the door. Very rude. "I'm 'a get a start on my own unpacking, so I'll get my own lunch later, 'K?" I say as the loaf of bread, block of cheese, lettuce bunch, and one tomato float out of the fridge, then I trot past Mom and Dad and up the stairs to my bedroom.
I actually can't do much unpacking right now, since I'll need to paint the room at some point and it's easier to cover all the boxes with a tarp or something in case of splatters than to move all the things I have to somewhere else. However, I can probably move what little clothes and shoes I own into the closet and move the boxes into something an earth pony can deal with easily instead of the messy tower they're in right now. 
First thing, I go to the two boxes left slightly to the side of the stack, the ones marked 'FRAGILE' with my messy mouthwriting and then later with an official-looking stamp, and shift them into the back of the closet, where they'll hopefully be safe. The things in those boxes are important, and I don't want any of them to be broken accidentally. Then, much less carefully, I topple Mount Boxes. Most of them are taped shut, so nothing spills out, although there are some heavy clunks as they hit the ground. I don't need to worry though, nothing in those boxes will get any more beat up from that than it has from being in my room, and besides, I packed stuff carefully enough. The pile is much easier to deal with knocked over, so it only takes me a minute to find the box marked 'CLOTHES'. I unload the contents of it into my closet: a few dresses for special occasions, a couple of winter coats, some scarves, and a few sets of shoes. The closet is big enough that it still looks empty. 
Next I move the boxes that were upside-down or on their sides so they're right-side up, and push them into the corner near my bed so a tarp could more easily cover both those things. That's enough unpacking for the day, I think. I climb into bed, grab Jobs for Ponies again, and settle in to read until dinner. 


.: • .:. • :.


"Sweetheart! Dinnertime!" 
I look up from a list of Jobs most Ponies Don't Know About and stretch again, then call down "I'll be down in a sec!", reaching for my map/bookmark with one hoof. After my place is marked and the book, now more than half finished, is placed on the bedside table, I walk downstairs to the dining room, which isn't part of the kitchen anymore. I guess that's an improvement over our old house, although for me it means if I make myself a snack, I have longer to carry it. Dinner today is apparently sandwiches, which is fine by me even if it probably means the oven doesn't work yet. Mom wouldn't pass up a chance to cook and doesn't consider sandwiches and such 'real' cooking, even if her cheese and dandelion sandwiches are delicious. I rag on Mom for a lot, but I can't fault her cooking: she could probably make grilled fish tasty. I take a seat, wash my hooves, and pick up my sandwich. Before I dig in, however, I say as casually as I can, "So, can I have a dog?"
Mom puts her sandwich down and wipes her mouth delicately before speaking. "Sweetie, you know --"
"Yes. If you can find a place that sells them. We didn't find any pet stores here and we're not going out of town." Dad interrupts. Mom raises her eyebrows at him, and he leans over and nuzzles her.
"Ugh, not at the dinner table, please? But also thank you." I say, smiling before taking another bite. The cheese tastes different than I'm used to, but not necessarily bad. 
"It will be your responsibility," Mom says worriedly, "You'll have to train it and feed it and take it out, remember. It's not just a furry friend."
I roll my eyes. "I know, Mom. You aren't gonna change my mind." 
"I know, I'm not trying to, it's just... you're growing up..."
I take another bite of sandwich without responding. I've been growing up for a long time. I've been nearly grown up for a long time. I'm almost too old to be called a foal, and Mom's acting like I'm a filly just starting secondary school. 
Mom waited a few seconds, then turned to Dad. "So, how was your day, hun?" 
I tune them out as they start to talk about job hunting and such and focus on finishing my sandwich. I have something I want to look at as soon as I can get up to my room.
"May I be excused?" I ask as soon as I finish, already standing up and picking up my plate. Mom nods without looking at me, engrossed in her conversation on how much it would cost to have someone look at our oven. I drop off the plate at the sink and hurry up to my room.
Once there, I walk over to the box corner and look for one in particular. After finding and opening it, I dig through the contents, hoping past me had thought to leave this near the top. Luckily she/I had, and it only took a few minutes before I was crawling into bed with my prize. Soon, I was eagerly opening my worn copy of Dog Breeds of Equestria. Jobs for Ponies could wait.