//------------------------------// // The Growing Thirst // Story: Gotta Get Gustave // by Compendium of Steve //------------------------------// Friday nights have always been lively, chaotic affairs for just about any town, village or municipality with a pulse, except for places like Ponyville. But this isn't about Ponyville, dear readers. Oh no no no, our attention is on Canterlot: home to one of the most bustling night lives in Equestria, outmatched only by the likes of Manehatten and Las Pegasus. With an obscene amount of restaurants, clubs, bars, theaters and exhibitions to choose from, the Equestrian capital leaves residents and visitors alike utterly spoiled with choices. Fortunately, our focus is narrowed upon a small and inauspicious establishment misleadingly named the Downtrotter, a fairly reputable hangout spot for minglers and singlers alike. Reputable in that it was one-quarter as seedy as every other bar in the area, and its clientele primarily consist of unicorns. That’s how you know it’s credible(ly safe)! Inside the murky, low-lit interior a lonesome, fair-if-slightly-faded powder blue unicorn sat at the bar nursing a drink that was practically water at that point. Rather a fitting beverage for so average and despairingly uninteresting a pony: one who stays within the lines of life and behaves reasonably, calmly and safely. In short, about as bland and almost bereft of flavor as the drink perspiring on the bar top in front of her. Her thoughts were equally bland as it was merely deliberating over taking another watery sip and literally nothing else. A train of thought that would have lasted another two minutes if they weren't halted by the approach of a pale white unicorn mare. "Hey there, Minuette," she greeted as she magicked a stool up to her thin if somewhat bumpy tush. "Ah, Twinkleshine!" the blue mare happily replied. "I was starting to wonder when someone would show up." "It's your own fault for always coming so early." Being the early bird for just about every occasion was one of the few "qualities" that made Minuette stand out from a loaf of bread on legs (altough a loaf of bread with legs would still be considerably more interesting). The stereotypical surly-looking unicorn barkeep slid up to the newcomer as she settled in. "Whadda it be?" "A cosmopolitan." One could surmise that Twinkleshine considered herself quite the cosmopolitan herself, though she leaned more on the soft-spoken, non-aggressive and frankly side of cosmopolitan. Nowhere as bad as Minuette, but nothing to write home about. The barkeep nodded in the manner of someone used to taking orders from lonely inner city dames and turned to mix up the drink. He had barely left the girls' breathing space when a unicorn mare with a yellow coat and blue mane came up to the bar. "Hey girls." "Hi Lemon," Minuette greeted. "That was sudden," Twinkle remarked. "Did you follow me on the way here?" "I wasn't aware you had just come in," Lemon Hearts replied as she got her own barstool. "Well I don't have a drink yet, so that should have clued you in." "I guess. Speaking of which." Lemon leaned over and said, "Fix me up the usual, Clay." Clay the bartender nodded, and soon his aura brought over Twinkle's cosmo and Lemon's painfully predictable lemon sour. Apart from the unimaginative lemon fixation, Lemon Hearts was a more outgoing, headstrong, controlling sort, unafraid to spout her opinions at anyone or anything with a set of ears. Often these opinions rubbed other ponies the wrong way, leaving a bitter, sour aftertaste not unlike taking a bite out of a highly potent lemon. Huh, I guess she's more predictable than I originally thought. "You guys think Lyra will be able to show up?" Minuette asked. "I'd be more concerned about Moonie not showing," Lemon replied. "It's hard to predict when she's stumbled upon another thesis or research article or whatever." "She's been getting better at it, though," Twinkle said in their absent friend's defense. “Plus she always has to close the library on Fridays so it takes longer.” "And that’s usually when something catches her eye and we wind up waiting another forty minutes." Lemon took a swig of her tart drink. "Ahhhh, that's the stuff." "I just asked because Lyra hardly ever comes up to Canterlot these days, and even then she’s usually hurrying to get back to Ponyville," Minuette said to halt any further disparagings. Ever the peacekeeper, the dear little sheep. "Well she told me she was gonna come. She knows the time and everything," Lemon bluntly stated. "She’s also less likely to get sidetracked, unlike somepo—" "What's up party ponies!" Yet another unicorn boisterously stepped onto the scene, this time being the mint green Lyra Heartstrings, dragging a barstool screechingly across the floor before planting it between Lemon and Twinkleshine. An obnoxious breath of personality if there ever was one: abrasive, loud, chummy to the point of suffocating. And that's when she's not being a weird, catty braggart. "Ah, wonderful. I was worried if you were going to make it." Lyra waved a hoof. "Ehh no sweat, Minuette. I'm not gonna pull a Twilight and ditch my old Canterlot chums." "That hasn't been funny for over a year, Lyra," Twinkleshine said sharply. "Pffffft!" Lyra shook her head. "I wish I was joking. I practically live next door to her and she never bothers to say hello, even after all that reconnecting and reconciling stuff. Yeah she's the ruling princess and all, but still! Anyway, I'm not here to dwell; I'm here to get drunk! Yo barkeep! Toss me a kamikaze!" Clay rolled his eyes and begrudgingly went to fulfill the rude loudmouth's request (sans the tossing). In the meantime, Lyra glanced from friend to friend and asked, “So when will we be expecting Moon Dancer?” “The library had closed nearly an hour ago so she should be on her way,” Twinkleshine answered before sipping her cosmo. “That’s if she isn’t holed up in a corner with some new addition for ‘quality evaluation',” Lemon added, which was the tipping point in ruffling her white friend’s nonexistent feathers. “Maybe if you worked in a library you’d know exactly what goes into closing one and not be so judgmental about Moon Dancer’s habits,” Twinkleshine rebuked. “Ha! Well unlike the rest of you I have a job, and I can tell you it takes no hour to close up some library at the start of the weekend. That's if you get a headstart on it. I mean, honestly, who stays late at a library on a Friday night? Apart from Moonie.” “Librarian and event-planner are totally different things, and I sincerely doubt the former allows you to shirk off super early.” “And what was that about us not having jobs? I'm a roaming minstrel (and SMILE agent), and that, madam, is beyond reproach!” Lyra banged a hoof on the bar for needless dramatic emphasis. “Girls, girls please calm down!” Minuette said in a tired damage-control-tone. “You barely got here and haven’t had nearly enough for petty arguing.” “I’m still waiting on my drink, dang it!” Lyra exclaimed. “Then I suppose we’ll have to wait together.” That extra voice got everypony’s attention as they all as one turned their heads in the direction of the door. Approaching the cadre of up-and-coming cougars was Moon Dancer in her fleecy black sweater, still ever the most fashion-forward of her friends. Fashion-forward as in being the only one sporting any fashion, even if it's the “perpetually braving the brisk autumn chill after emerging from your dusty attic" look. Still knew how to flaunt it like the best of them, though. She took a stool and scrunched in between Minuette and Twinkleshine. Normally she would have stuck to the other end, but this was a fresh and exciting Moon Dancer, so look out world! “Sorry if I’m a bit late; some teens thought making a fort out of trash cans by the history section would make a profound statement for anti-establishmentism,” she excused herself, fussing at her glasses. “Hey it’s fine. As long as you made it that's what counts,” Lemon said a tad nervously, the reason for which we’re about to hear. “I don’t suppose you had been standing back there for a while and caught me or us saying certain things that could be construed as smack talk.” “Only about the part about minstrel being a respectable occupation. And I don't mind if you're saying things about me so long it's between friends. Certainly would be awkward to vent one's grievances on a stranger, wouldn't you agree?” “Haha, yeah. Super awkward. Rude, even." Moon Dancer nodded at her friend, then catching the bartender's attention she said, "I'd like a Swirly Dimple, please." For those of you not in the know, a Swirly Dimple is about the same as a Shirley Dimple, but served with a twisty straw. Liking the politeness of this latest lonely lass, Clay took his time in whipping up her drink before finishing Lyra's, and in a few moments both drinks were placed on the bar.  With no mouth left parched, Minuette eagerly brought things to order. "Alright, looks like our latest girls' night out can finally begin. For starters, how has everyone's week been?" "Fan-flippin'-tastic!" Lyra announced. "Got hit with some inspiration for a new sonata, practiced my singing and making this fine outing to ol' Canterlot for an ingredients run for Sweetie." "How is Sweetie Drops?" Moon Dancer asked. "Keeping good, keeping good. Still trying out new recipes to keep the candy shop lively. Not that it's been needing business. Ponies got to have their sweets all the time." "You know I've noticed that myself, and just the other week I began pondering over the possible connection between sugar consumption and socially-tied mental—" "Hey I just remembered!" Twinkleshine said to save them from another session of Moon Dancer's unnecessary lecture series. "You won't guess who I saw wandering about town today." "Princess Luna?" Minuette guessed. "Out with it, Twinkie," Lyra said. "You know I hate that name. Anyway, I was doing some shopping earlier and I saw Gustave Le Grand just outside the store!" "Really?" Minuette asked, her minuscule curiosity piqued. "Was he doing some shopping himself?" "Not from what I saw," Twinkle said to Lemon. "He was walking with some ponies in suits talking about something. I couldn't hear what they were saying." "I believe they were his publicists," Moon Dancer said. "He's doing a book signing tour for his latest cookbook around the major cities of Equestria, with the Canterlot signing occuring at Biblio-Fillies tomorrow. We've had flyers for it at the library for some weeks." "Oh yeeaaah. Sweetie Drops had mentioned wanting to check it out. Get some ideas for new candies." "Like eclair candies? That's all he ever makes!" Lemon scoffed. "The title of the book is eclair-based, yes," Moon Dancer acknowledged. "See? The guy is totally unoriginal! Makes the same thing over and over again, yet he's supposed to be this big shot culinary genius." "We have two of his cookbooks in our catalog, and while I'm no chef by any stretch of the imagination, I've read through them and the ingredients for every recipe were practically identical," Moon Dancer attested. "Lazy as well as unoriginal!" "He doesn't even try to make them look different, either," Twinkleshine joined in. "If it's just the same thing he could at least try to dress them up a little. How dumb does he think we ponies are?" "He probably thinks we're all rather gullible. Especially if you consider how much bank he's making off of us." "And griffons are always full of themselves to begin with," Lyra said. "Think they're so much better because they have wings and claws and are capable of digesting muscle proteins." "I have to say his attitude is especially bad for a griffon," Minuette added. "In every interview he's always boasting about how great a visionary he is, like no humility at all. And for whatever reason the articles spell words the exact way he pronounces them, so you can't help but read them in that condescending voice of his." "He's very obnoxious with that Prench angle," Lemon groaned after taking a swig of her drink. "The accent, always wearing that stupid hat everywhere he goes, that frou-frou ascot, and that ridiculous mustache, ugh!" "Griffons can't even grow mustaches!" Lyra practically shouted. "Those beaks are all bone, so it’s obviously a fake ‘stache he’s got. But he goes twirling it like it’s his pride and joy, which pisses me off even more!” "It’s actually keratin, but yes, it is pretty ludicrous how he presents himself.” Moon Dancer took a long sip from her straw. "Though you have to admit, it's quite the feat to be trained in classical Prench cuisine, in Prance. The Prench usually don't pass their skills on to non-pony races." "Guess he was smug enough to pass for them," Lemon remarked. "Shame all that skill is being wasted on just one type of pastry," Twinkle said. "I mean, there has to be something he does that makes them so popular." "I actually tried them a while back," Lyra said. "Sweetie ordered them special for her birthday. They looked the same, but they tasted different. Different fillings, yeah, but the bread itself had these subtle, nuanced flavors to them." "Really? I might have to try them myself if that's the case," Lemon decided. "It's actually kinda admirable he stuck to this one thing for so long. I'd be sick of lemon tarts if I kept making them most of my life." "He doesn't seem that old, come to think of it," Twinkleshine noted. "Or at least, he has that graceful aged look. It’s probably the color scheme." "Pretty fair-looking for a griffon, for a chef," Lyra admitted. "I’m rather surprised how fit he looks despite his profession,” Moon Dancer said. “He may have an impressive metabolism, or looks after himself.” “Gotta admire an old guy who keeps in shape,” Lemon said rather softly. “Something about his pronounced lower beak gives him a strong, confident look,” Twinkleshine remarked, almost dreamily. “And you never see any of his feathers out of place in his pictures.” “Not bad-looking fur, either,” Lyra added. “I rather enjoy Prench accents, even if they come off as arrogant,” Minuette said demurely. "Yeah they're… something," Lemon said, petering into silence that befell the whole group. Staring at the polished grimy texture of the bar, the girls' hearts mulled and stirred and ballooned with a growing, warming realization. A realization shared by one and all, which Twinkleshine took upon herself to vocalize and therefore free them of their self-imposed burden of restraint and modesty. "I love Gustave Le Grand." "So do I!" cried Lyra. "Holy Celestia what a catch!" "It's as clear as day he is the absolute best!" Moon Dancer swooned. "He's so assertive and gives no flocks about any criticisms!" Lemon praised. "That mind of his has to be absolutely brilliant to cook something so simple so ingeniously," said Moon Dancer. "And the curvature of that beak, umph! Peak evolution right there." "Forget that; you see the shape of those hind legs? You can just feel the power just by looking at them and it drives me wild!" exclaimed Lyra, practically writhing in the general shape of the lauded limb. "I just wanna bury my face in that feathery chest, ooooo what a fluffy hunk!" Twinkle gushed. "And the way he says Prench words at random, just take me now!" Minuette said. "I know, right!" Lemon shouted with quivering adoration. "We have to get to that book signing!" Lyra declared, to which Lemon Heart got right in her face to say, "Was there any question about us not??" Moon Dancer stood up on her stool and cried, "We have to plan. To the Tower!" “YEEEEEAH!!!” With that fervent call to arms the madmares pushed off from the bar and stampeded over the floor and out the door, into the shadowy Canterlot streets and whatever unfortunate soul couldn't get out of the way. Clay the barkeep only looked on with an indifferent gaze, merely shaking his head with a huff. Comes with the territory when dealing with anyone that has the slightest association with the Princess of Friendship. At least they had the courtesy not to start a brawl or break out into song, he thought as he went about retrieving the abandoned drinks. Had he a little more insight than cynicism, he would have closed the bar early, gone home to pack the bare essentials, and hopped the next train out of the city. For the display of fanaticism he witnessed had merely been a taste of the misery and madness to come.