Chapter 3
Albert got up from Mark’s feet and sat back on the couch, grudgingly. Albert was taken aback. He couldn’t understand why Mark would mess with his sympathies like that. He wiped the fresh tears from his eyes, starting to calm down. Mark picked up his plate and his fork and took them back to the kitchen, leaving Albert to his own devices. Albert pondered the The Writer’s presentation sullenly. There was something hauntingly familiar about the things that he saw, but he couldn’t quite place a hoof on it. It was something in the room where Albert saw his fake family, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. He frowned, puzzled to no end. Albert’s ponderings were interrupted by Mark coming back into the living room to sit down.
“So. You didn’t really answer me last night.”
“What?” Albert asked, still dazed slightly by sleep. Mark sighed.
“What do you want to do today?” Mark asked.
“Well...” Albert trailed off mentally, trying to rack his brain for anything to do today.
“Why don't we about we talk about it over breakfast.” Mark suggested, slightly impatient.
“Didn’t you just-” Albert started, but Mark cut him off by grabbing a hoof and pulling him out of the door.
“We can still make the Early Bird special if we hurry up.”
“But I have to go to work!” Albert objected, grabbing onto the doorframe to keep from going outside.
“No, you don’t.” Mark assured, yanking Albert out of the door. Mark was pulling Albert down the street, in full view of everypony.
“Don’t pull me like this! You have to hide!” Albert tried not to shout. Mark looked at Albert quizzically.
“What are you talking about?” Mark wondered. Albert looked around, trying to see which ponies were losing their minds. Surprisingly, many of the ponies didn’t even notice Mark, let alone Albert shouting.
“Why aren’t they-”
“I control this town. I created it as your foalhood home, so theoretically I also wrote the lives of all the ponies in this city at one point. If I don’t want them to freak out, they don’t freak out. Simple as that.” Mark explained offhandedly.
“So everything is a lie?”
“I didn’t say that, did I? Now hurry up, breakfast is getting cold.” Mark emphasized with a final yank.
At the Fancy Griddle, Albert and Mark received a booth in front of a window. The pair ordered their drinks and looked through the menus, some of them more happily than others.
“The sunrise special looks good. What do you want?” Mark asked, distracted. Albert was still fairly disgruntled from the false-alarm family.
“Out of here. I need to go to work!” Albert blurted out. Mark nodded, pulling a small notebook out of his ever-present green bag. He snapped his fingers and a pen appeared on the table in front of him. He picked it up and started writing. Alberty watched in thirsty shock as his water glass suddenly turned into a tower of bits that fell apart in a golden cascade, tinkling as some coins rolled off of the table and onto the tile floor.
"This should cover you for a while." Mark quipped. Albert's eyes widened as he comprehended the amount of money in front of him.
"Do you know how many bits this is?!"
"Enough." Mark understated, picking up his menu and paging through it.
"Enough? This would have gotten me through my first semester at Canterlot University with enough left over to bribe my way to a 4.0!" Albert freaked. Mark looked up from the menu for a moment, seeming pensive.
"So... do you need more?” Mark tried to draw an answer out of Albert. Albert sighed, exasperated.
“No, I’m good.” Albert groaned. The waitress conveniently decided to show up to take their orders. She was a lovely pony, with a pale blue coat and bubblegum pink hair done up in a bun. She was wearing a neat little apron. with pockets, stuffed with straws and chocolates.
“Mah name’s Shinin’ and Ah’ll be takin’ yer order today. Soup a’ th’day is cream a cellery. What can I git y’all started with?” She asked us, looking extremely chipper. Mark decided to order first. The waitress turned to him without batting an eyelash.
“I’m sort of split.” Mark joked, getting a laugh out of the waitress. “I just can’t decide between the Sunrise Special or the Morning Delight. They both look pretty good.” He said, trying his best to be a good little pony. The waitress nodded.
“They’re mah favorites.” The Waitress admitted. Mark nodded.
“Tell you what... I’ll get the Sunrise Special, but instead of the hashbrowns, can I substitute a steak?” Mark asked politely. The waitress was about to write down the order, pen in mouth, when she realized what Mark said. She dropped the pen onto the table and blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“A steak. I really want the Sunrise Special, but I want a steak instead of hashbrowns."
“Mister, do y’know where y’are? Ah cain’t get y’ a steak! This is ’n upright e- stablishment, and we serve food here. If y’want a steak,” The waitress shuddered a little bit at the word, “Y’kin go down to th’ farm and chew on lil’ bessie yerself.” She burst out. Mark squinted at her for a moment, squinting, as if he was trying to figure out if she was crazy.
“Oh!” Mark exclaimed, hitting his head with the heel of his palm. “Sorry about that. Just a moment.” He implored the waitress, who was slightly annoyed and very confused. Albert was trying not to be seen by any of the ponies that he knew in the restaurant. As he was shrinking down into his seat, Mark pulled out his pen and a small notepad, and started scribbling. The Waitress’ face blanked for a moment, and her eyes glassed over. She blinked, and suddenly she was all smiles again.
“D’ya want some sauce with that steak, Mister?” She asked, reaching down to pick up the pen again. Mark laughed and held his belly.
“Don’t tempt me. I get enough salt as it is.” He laughed out. When the waitress was finished writing his order, she turned to me, brows raised.
“Um... Can I get some... Um...” I started, but I was extremely distracted by the absurd amount of money on the table, and how little attention anypony was paying to it.
"Why don't you pick the Eggy Peggy?" Mark helped. I frowned. That was my favorite and he knew it.
"Yeah, I'll take the Eggy Peggy." Albert said, crestfallen. The Writer knew his favorite breakfast, which probably meant that he was the one that wrote it. I might hate it if it was just me Albert thought to himself. The waitress nodded.
"Ah'll get that right out to ya." She assured us, taking our menus from us. I smiled awkwardly at her and handed my menu while Mark sipped his water. We were silent for a while after the waitress left. Albert stared out of the window, watching the hubbub outside. There was a pony haggling for apples at a nearby cart. Albert smiled a little bit. He loved to haggle for apples.
"She didn't have to argue with me." The Writer said out of the blue. Albert turned away from the window, confused.
"Excuse me?" Albert asked, annoyed. Mark was steering to get on his nerves.
"She didn't have to argue with me. I could have pre-written her to just bring me a steak. But I didn’t, because I wanted to show you what I can do.”
“Wait, wait, wait. You’re thinking that I don’t think you’re the Writer?”
“Yes.” Mark confirmed in between sips.
“You’ve given me wings. You’ve written me a family and a few thousand bits. You’ve even put me on the surface of the frickin’ sun. I’m pretty sure that you’re who you say you are. If you aren’t, you’re doing pretty good.” Albert said. Mark nodded.
“I really don’t think that you know what’s going on. I can do anything. Everything you can imagine, and then even the things that you can’t.” Mark bragged. Albert scoffed.
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“There’s something that you’ve always wanted, Albert. Something that you-”
“Holy Celestia!” Albert shouted, cutting off Mark. He pressed his nose against the window glass and stared. Mark furrowed his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder..
“What?”
“It’s her.” Albert whispered in awe.
“What?”
“The mare in the Ballroom. My... wife.” Albert’s mouth had trouble with the strange world. She was trotting past the window now, and Mark got a look at her.
“Ah. Her.” Mark sighed. Albert couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was a beautiful mare, surely. Her blonde mane was just curly enough that it curled up on the ends. Her smooth blue coat shimmered slightly in the sun. Her trot had an unearthly grace to it, making her look like some kind of royalty. The knowledge that his wife, the mother of his foals, was an actual mare instead of one of the Writer’s artifices made Albert shake. He was hopelessly, irrevocably, wonderfully in love. Mark looked away from the mare to Albert.
“You wily bastard.” Mark accused. Albert didn’t look away from the mare, turning in his booth to watch her walk away.
“Yeah.” Albert swooned. Mark snapped, trying to draw Albert out of his reverie.
“Albert, don’t stare at that.” Mark childed. Albert kept his eyes on the mare, with a silly grin on his face. “You look like a dope.”
“Uh huh.” Albert agreed, still thinking about the mare. Mark frowned.
“You’re messing with the story.”
“Sure.” Albert said, obviously not caring. Mark leaned over the table slightly and prodded the table.
“You can’t screw with the storyline. It has to work one way, and that’s my way.”
“Okay.” Albert said complacently, still watching the mare sway away.
"Allright, Albert. Come on, let’s pay attention.” Mark childed. Albert nodded. Mark took off his glasses and rubbed his face with both hands
“I should have stayed at home.” Mark groaned. He put his glasses back on and picked up a pen. He scribbled a few words on the pad and waited. Albert watched as the mare collapsed onto the ground, falling face first. Ponies in the street rushed up to her and started screaming. Albert’s look of awe quickly changed to that of fear, disappointment, and surprise. He spun around to look at Mark.
“What did you do!?” Albert shouted.
“She’s dead.”
“What?!” Albert demanded an explanation. Mark scoffed.
“I mean, how many ways can you say it? She’s dead. Here, look.” Mark slid the note across the table. Albert read, clutching the note with his hooves.
And then the Mare died.
Albert read and re-read the sentence. He couldn’t understand.
“That’s it?” Albert demanded.
“Sometimes it needs to be short and sweet.” Mark quipped with a smile. Albert had to resist the urge to leap over the table and strangle Mark.
“Why?” Albert whispered.
“Because the story was getting ahead of me. That can’t happen.”
“So you killed her because she got ahead of you?”
“It wasn’t me. I mean, she has a family history of the stuff. Pulmonary edema sure is a bad way to go. She was lucky to live past her tenth birthday.” Mark reasoned. Albert was shaking by now.
“I swear to Celestia, I should come over this table and kill you.” Albert warbled. Mark grinned from ear to ear. He snapped and pointed at Albert.
“You’re just the guy. I knew I was right when I picked you. But Albert,” Mark emphasized, placing both of his hands on the table, palms facing, “Let’s get on the level. You need something from me. I don’t know if it’s some kind of life lesson, or some hair brained adventure, or what. I mean, the next few weeks could be action, adventure, romance, tragedy, comedy, anything. But I need you to pay attention a little bit and play ball with me.” Mark said. Albert sighed.
“Okay.”
“Great. Let me just...” Mark trailed off, getting the yellow notepad back from Albert’s side of the table. He jotted something down and placed the thing back into his bag. Albert looked back at the mare. She was getting back up with some help. Albert turned back to Mark.
“Narcolepsy.” Mark shrugged. Albert collapsed into his seat.
“Twin Sisters, Mark, I can’t do this for much longer.” Albert groaned. Mark smiled.
“Other writers must have it easy.” Mark complained.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I bet their characters do what they’re told.”
“Ha, ha.”
“But seriously, Albert, what do you want to do? The sky is literally the limit. You could be a mass murderer, you could switch over to the ‘other team’, you could die a few times, hell, you could even build the better mousetrap. I want to know what you want to do.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Mark affirmed. Albert looked over his shoulder and looked at the little blonde pony disappearing into town.
“I wanna get to know her.” Albert said wistfully.